He took his time.
This was new, and not new. He had always been specific — had always brought the same focused attention to this that he brought to everything else, the quality of someone who does not multitask because multitasking would mean giving something less than full attention. But there was something different now: the unhurried quality of a man who knows he has the whole night and intends to use it. Who is not managing this toward any particular conclusion but is simply, entirely, here.
"Stop thinking," he said, against my neck.
"I'm not—"
"You're cataloguing," he said. "I can tell. Stop."
"I'm not cataloguing," I said. "I'm — appreciating."
He pulled back to look at me. Even in the dark I could see the corner of his mouth.
"Appreciating," he said.
"Systematically," I said
