081413 #worm It's a dream. It's a dream. In the dream, Jelse is in the upstairs of a coffee shop, a few cents away from being asked to leave. It's the smoking section, but he doesn't smoke. There's a railing around a large open space through which you can see downstairs. They're whispering too loud down there; Jelse can hear them. He's not the type to ramble out loud, but he speaks up now: What if you slip up one of these days? Then it's not going to be so funny. Then you're not going to be so holier-than-thou. People don't look at him. A lady moves out of his way as he's heading down the stairs. What? Are you afraid of me or something? No, she says. She's plump. She smiles. Her coiffure remains undisturbed. You're on your way down, she says. I was just getting out of the way. Jelse knows it's not her fault she's trying to be nice. And you're on your way up, he says. It's obvious.