Going up the hill in Arizona, Oswald could not get Bill out of his mind. The sheer size of the man and the high voice. He wondered about differences in the species. Not the mega-differences that led to wars and hatred. No. The massive differences that exist between one and another at the closest range. God. He thought of his ex. We are different and similar, he thought.
It was late at night when he got to Seligman. It was cold. A frigid wind cut through his Good Will jacket.
Back in the eighties, coin phones were more common than now. He found a glassed-in booth at the end of the main drag. He called his ex collect.
"What in god's name are you calling me collect for," came the censorious voice of his once-beloved spouse. "Are you broke again?"
"I was just wondering about our differences," Oswald said. "And how we could have gotten along for many years and then fallen apart so precipitously."
"You ought to know the answer to that…