Bitter North | Alexandra Tanner | Granta
<img src="https://litbreaker.nui.media/pipeline/517985/0/vc?z=litbreaker&dim=514838,514839&kw=&click=" width="" height="" alt="" border="0"> H al had a bad shoulder. Danna had no patience for it. She felt Hal was selective about what the shoulder could take. They could fuck in whatever position, he could carry her bags at the airport, but if Danna wanted to book a duo Pilates session ever, Hal was in agony. He often said it like that: I’m in agony. Hal and Danna were sitting on a restaurant patio, eating cheeses. Hal had the ball game up on his phone. In the morning, they’d leave on a short vacation in celebration of Danna’s birthday; the night before a vacation, they never ate at home. Hal was moving his right shoulder in circles: forward, backward, forward. When he did his shoulder exercises his face always became vacant, upsettingly so. ‘Who’s winning?’ Danna asked. ‘Not us,’ said Hal. He rolled his shoulder harder. ‘Jesus Christ,’ he said. ‘Fuck.’ He made a disgustin
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