Sharon keeps her office locked. She keeps her laptop locked in her office’s roll top desk. I know about the keys, the password; I’ve paid close attention to her hands. Her sleep is deepest at a specific time. I don’t need to know what I know to find out what she is hiding.

Sharon has noticed certain credit card charges and said nothing. She has been alone in a room with my cell phone and Rolodex. We share a bed and watch each other. If what we watch for were to transpire, we would throw something in each other’s faces. I have plans and my wife has plans. Everything depends on reaching an information threshold.

At a dinner party Sharon watches me while pretending to talk to Wayne Whitman. I pretend to talk to Sally Nussbaum-Whitman while I watch Sharon. In addition to Sally Nussbaum-Whitman there is a woman across the room my wife doesn’t know about. There is a man across the room that I don’t know about. If I leave the room with or closely preceded by or closely followed by Sally Nussbaum-Whitman, Sharon will leave with the man I don’t know about. If Sharon leaves the room and Wayne Whitman leaves the room at the same time or soon before or soon thereafter, I will leave with the woman Sharon doesn’t know about.

I look at the upper left quadrant of the board while thinking about the lower right quadrant. My wife looks at (from her perspective) the lower right quadrant while thinking about the upper left quadrant. She says she searched the Internet for information on female chess players but found mostly photo collections with titles like “Top Ten Hottest Grandmistresses” or “Chess Diva Beauty Contest.” Sharon watches the lower right quadrant. I think she sees (or that she thinks she sees) a way to prevent mate in four moves by forcing a draw. I watch the upper left quadrant.