Intimacy flows through the open pores of words, sliding in through the nanospaces of silence. Too much, too soon. Songs unsung, words unsaid, skin untouched, yet consumed inside the imaginative working of a hungry mind. Sleeve brushes cuff, a quick furtive conjunction best ignored. Her mind is heavy with the weight of Savitri, Kannagi, Sita, every virtuous woman who lived, and left behind an indecipherable legacy. The anatomy of infidelity dissects itself, acting, reacting, feeling, assigning to itself - the twin doses of pleasure and blame.