Bob and you were lonely in different ways, both nonetheless, lonely in a hotel in Tokyo.

You were lying in Bob’s room, in his bed together—your husband being away. “Does it get easier?” You asked, staring at the ceiling. “No.” He replied. He added. “Yes. It gets easier.”

“Oh, yeah?” You replied, unconvinced. “Look at you.” You turned your head, looking at him with a little smirk.

He turned to look at you. “Thanks.” You shared a small chuckle.