Turbulence
David Szalay
“My gardener,” Ursula said. “You remember my gardener—Shamgar?” “Yes,” Miri said. “Sort of.” “I think he might be gay.” “Yeah? Why?” Ursula laughed. “I think he might be having some sort of affair with the man who works next door.” “Good for him,” Miri said. She didn’t seem very interested—her mind seemed elsewhere.