Roger knocked on the door. Yvette answered wearing a bathrobe.
“Hi love,” she said, turning her head to the side for a European-style double cheek kiss.
Roger hated the Euro-kiss. Yvette had picked it up from a new French friend. He took solace in the fact that the Euro-kiss phase would pass, like every other phase before it: the cat-eye makeup phase, the barefoot running phase, the tarot card phase, the feminist literature phase, the vegetarian activist phase.
This too shall pass.
Yvette’s white toy poodle was standing behind her legs, showing its teeth at Roger.