I'm not mad at you, she said. Not even a little? No. Do you still love me? It didn't seem like the perfect time to mention that I had already made copies of the key for the deliverer from Pizza Hut, and the UPS person, and, also the nice guys from Greenpeace, so they could leave me articles on manatees and other animals that are going extinct when Stan is getting coffee. I've never loved you more.
A conversation unfolds between two characters, where one expresses that she's not angry, even hinting at the depth of her feelings. The other, inquiring about love, spark a deeper reflection. Despite the unusual timing, the narrator holds onto a secret—having made copies of their house key for various delivery and charity people, indicating a strain in the relationship and an underlying tension regarding intimacy and trust.
The narrator's response, claiming to love her more than ever, juxtaposes the mundane reality of sharing their space with strangers. This complexity highlights the emotional disconnect between their words and actions. While she seeks reassurance, the narrator's hidden behavior suggests a coping mechanism for the relationship's challenges, showing how love can coexist with little breaches of trust.
