So how long have you been together? Two months?''Five.''Five? Jesus, Steve, you might as well get married. I should buy a hat.''Don't. They give away your Spock ears.'She laughed. 'This is the Romanian girl?''Croatian.''Right. She's a painter?''Photographer.''Right.' She studied him.'What?' he laughed self-consciously as though he was a twelve-year-old boy who'd just been caught with his first girlfriend.'Nothing.''Come on.''I don't know Steve,' she cut into her meat, 'you've changed. You no longer write about Victoria Beckham and you have a girlfriend. I think...''You think what?''I don't know, I might be jumping the gun here, but I think there's a possibility you might not be gay after all.'A chip was hurled at her head.

Above Constance's desk were nude photographs of women in 1930s France, draped in provocative poses. She had put them there for Bob's viewing pleasure and in return he had placed African art of naked men above his desk for her.

Journalism classes teach us that one must extract oneself from the story in order to report without bias, but often we need to be in the story in order to understand, to connect, to help the audience identify or else it has no heart; it could be a robot telling the story, for all anyone cares.