They leered at each other like a standoff between two gunslingers waiting for the other to make the first move — Edwin knew he’d have to pull the trigger first. He brooded behind his 1950s Hermes Baby typewriter with the clattering of dishes in the next room. The blank paper was a frequent visitor in their quaint apartment. Then like a flash, an idea sparked — his fingers twitched on the keyboard. “Ed, a little help might be nice,” barked Elizabeth from the kitchen.