He threw the window open and stood there, staring out at the storm. He walked across the room, bare foot, looking for his cigarettes.
“What do you got that open for? You’re letting all the hot out.”
“It was stuffy in here.”
“I can’t see why. You spend all day cooped up, smoking. What did I tell you about these ashtrays?” She lifted one from the table to illustrate her point. The wind blew a thin cloud of ash across the room. “Close that damn window.”
He did, then leaned forward, so that his head rested on the cold glass.