I looked forward to feeling those stiff pages and smelling the old bookshop across the street. Energy rises this month. The world is a challenge again, not an awkward necessity to forget by the heater. Behind me: a cry, brakes, then silence. I opened my eyes, felt lighter than before. I shivered. In the street lay my body, quietly still, the head turned at a strange angle. People stared. The driver covered his face and cried. A cop wrote; sirens came nearer. They laid me on a stretcher with care.

Later: my own party, given for no reason but the dare. Refusal kept me off the drink, and so—indirectly—off her. I would be glad when they all buggered off. The later it got, the more tiresome my friends became. Only now did I see it. On the first row—small, slight woman. The body did not draw me, but the face did: open, eyes that held friendship. My voice snagged. She knew I was thinking of her. The eyes told it. I had to go on; the room grew restless. She winked. Contact made.

They began to leave, in groups, drunk and laughing. New couples among them—maybe they would last. The blonde still sat beside me. ‘Can I sleep here tonight? I feel so alone since my friend left.’ The laughter kept sounding through the dark.