^{"Walk some more?" I asked, stretching out a little.
"Let’s," she said, standing.
We walked around the neighborhoods for a while before returning to our hotel room, a little bed and breakfast waiting for us in the early hours of the morning. The hotel owner was behind the counter working on a crossword when we made our way through the front door, towards the stairs that led up to our room. She nodded at us with a knowing wink and returned her attention to the crossword puzzle. I'm sure that she had plenty of experience with drunken American couples stumbling in at all hours, and she found that it was best to just ignore them, for the most part, until they moved on.
Shortly thereafter, we climbed into bed together, shivering from the chill in the sheets. With chattering teeth, she expressed what I interpreted at the time as the first signs of being bored with me.
"I’d like to get a job, once we get back Home," she said, shaking.
"Are you drunk?" I asked, not really believing that she was serious.
"A little, but sober enough. I need to pull more weight with things. You can't just hang around with me all over the city every day for the rest of our lives, you know. I need a job, something to help out around the house with, at least. You know, to buy us dinner or something sometimes,” she said, and I knew by the tone in her voice that she really was serious.
"No, I don't know," I answered her, defiant tone already creeping into my own words. "I’ve got enough money left from the divorce to get us through a pretty good stretch of time. If anything useful came out of that relationship, it's the cash." 
She kicked her feet a little, not out of anything but force of habit. It was something that she did when she was excited or trying to stay warm, or both. Just another one of those things that you always notice but don't really pay a whole lot of attention to until the weirdest times, when they either annoy you or seem inappropriate. This time, it was both.}