The lemon peel in Gloria’s gin-and-tonic is not like a parasite embedded in its host. It’s more like a heart or a soul or a sex appeal. The lemon glances through the haze of the gin and the tonic at Miss Grahame’s fingers, still mostly clenched after all this time (all this time?) and she (she’s a she, this lemon peel) wants to stretch out past her limits, until she’s all zest.⠀