irgoings-on:chegin,sayinghello,settlingattheirstations.Anhourorsopassedbeforethedoorsopenedandthehumansshufflediherhythmfeltnormal,Ibegantowork.Athinfilmofdustcoveredmypapers,andIspentmostofthatfirstdayreadisandpieorder,tyingtheloosepageswithentriesinMessjournal.Somuchhadbeebehind,lost,fotten,andburiedafterwehadbeendrivenawaythefirsttime.Reducedtoashortpile,thewordsdotedtimespassagewithdeepgapsandyawningsilences.Verylittleexisted,forinstance,fromtheearlydaysofmyarrival—onlyafewcrudedrawingsandpathetiotes.Yearshadgonebywithoutmention.Afterreviewingallthefiles,Iuoodthelongchoreahead.

    Whenthelibrariafortheevening,Ipoppedoperapdoorunderhechildreion.Uherforays,Ihadnodesiretopickoutanewbook,but,rather,tostealnewwritingsupplies.Behindtheheadlibrariansdesklaythetreasure:fivelongyellowpadsandenoughpenstolasttherestofmylife.Tointroduceaminorintrigue,IalsoreshelvedtheWallaceStevensthathadbeenmissing.

    WordsspilledfromthepenandIwroteuntilmyhandcrampedandpaiheend,thenightthatSpeckleft,becamethebeginning.Fromthere,thestorymovedbackwardtothepointwhereIrealizedthatIhadfallenihher.Awholeswathoftheinalmanuscript,whichisthankfullygone,wasgivehephysicaltensionsofbeingagrownmaninayoungboysbhtinthemiddleofasentendesire,Istopped.Whatifshewaogowithher?Iwouldhavepleadedforhertostay,saidthatIlackedthecetorunaway.Yetatraryideapulledatmysce.Perhapssheendedformetofindout.ShehadrunawaybecauseofmeandknewallalongthatIlovedher.IputdownmypenandwishedSpeckweretheretotalkwithme,toansweralltheunknow