It was what Sorrenson found most frightening when he pictured the afterlife.  What would he do without a body?  He didn't think he was going to heaven, but who knew?  His religious leader didn't know anything more than his kindergarten teacher did.  Probably less since he actually listened to his kindergarten teacher, weighing everything she said and seeing that she meant it when she said they were going to have a nap.  He spent most of the naps watching her, but of course she didn't nap.  Why not?  He wasn't even tired.  Lutherans didn't cremate their dead.  It was better to leave them in the ground and walk over them.  Sorrenson loved the Jewish tradition of burying their own dead, but he preferred to be turned back into ash.  Plus the fact that it is indeed difficult to do except for the Nazis who managed it with amazing efficiency.  So he wanted to go to the afterlife- if there was one- without a body, figuring he could float above the others, still possessed of all his senses.  Also an impossibility.
     Most of the women that he slept with were known to his wife, but not as his mistresses.  One was his son's teacher.  She of the perfect breasts.
     "I'm twenty-eight," she told him.