“Treachery” (she notices) sounds just like His zipper going down.
“The dense, dark night was cut down the middle, split into two black blocks of sleep. Where was she? Between the two pieces, looking at them (the one she had already slept and the one she had yet to sleep), isolated in the timeless and the spaceless, in an empty gap. This stretch would be subtracted from her years of life.”
Clarice Lispector | Near to the Wild Heart