The Lady with the Little Dog
The principals, X and Y, married, meet by chance in Yalta, and partake of a fleeting affair; unhurriedly, X consumes a slice of watermelon, after which both parties return to their respective spouses; in Moscow, X pines, and, unable to speak of his sorrow, or, as the case may be, boast of his vestal lapses, travels to S. in search of Y, who, pining also, agrees to meet in Moscow, presumably, with dog; their affair renewed, X and Y (and Y’s spitz), incapable of formulating a plot to divest themselves of their connubial encumbrances, sit, stand, and sit, in a room at the Slavyansky Bazaar: in love, yes, and perfectly miserable, too.
Hills Like White Elephants, POV Hill
Basically, from where I stood, I didn’t give a shit what was happening.
A Perfect Day for Bananafish
She was a girl who for the high sudden sleet of brain and cheek meat happening on the wall dropped exactly everything.
Cerebral sneer of cumulous on wry casings, shot-shell husks, red hulls leanly rusting amid nylon twined vials of jetsam gyred aground lobes of toothy minke fluke, clumsy with gnats.