SCOTT DRANK his coffee as he looked out the window of his penthouse condominium in downtown Toronto. He thought of the privileged life and peaceful existence that had been his lot before this weekend, and he thought about the weekend itself.

Scott and Jana had awoken on Saturday morning to a deep blanket of snow. They had consumed a gigantic breakfast of pancakes and sausage and then had worked together to shovel the driveway. By afternoon, the municipal snowplow had cleared the street, so they'd taken Barney for a walk.

Scott had not gone home. Instead he'd helped make supper and they had talked about their favorite colors (Jana's was green, and Scott, who had never thought about it before, realized he liked blue), their politics (she Liberal, he Conservative), the movies she liked (Scott didn't go to movies), their friends, and the people they worked with. In the evening they had watched a movie on TV, sitting on the couch holding hands, with the cats at their feet, and Barney curled up beside them.

But they didn't get to see the end because suddenly Scott was kissing her, and soon they were back in bed.

Now, back home, Scott was torn. He thought of that cozy little house and the quirky young woman who said 'wow' five times a day. A vacation, maybe a cruise, would be pleasant with Jana. We could make love all night and lie in the sun during the day. But do I want her here with me all the time? Do I really want children? I know she does, and soon, I expect. Thoughts about the interruption of his solitude and self determination, the mess the animals would make, the loss of freedom a commitment would entail, all swirled in his head together with memories of his penis in her mouth, her big dark eyes and lithe, smooth body. He wanted to see her again, was attracted to her, but he didn't want to hurt her if, after a while, his passion cooled.