"That's a wonderful tree, mon ami" exclaimed his friend Nikki. "It's just bursting forth with joi de vivre!" Nikki chose to forget he was Cuban, not French as she thought all serious painters should be in their souls.

Ruiz tried to be French to please her, but slid back into himself when she'd get dressed in the pale dawn to sneak out the door.

Every time she left he would watch the door close behind her. Watch the tangled shadows of sheets turn to black.