Robert S., rancher-husband of Patty, an old friend of my wife, contracted Alzheimer's when still in his forties (he died of a heart attack a few years ago). One afternoon, lying in bed after he and Patty had made love, Robert kept looking nervously at his watch.

"What's the matter, honey?" Patty asked.

"It's five o'clock," Robert said, putting on his jeans. "I'd better go; my wife will be suspicious."

fallow field
up on blocks
a faded gray pickup