HIM: I’m so lonely. ME: Maybe you should paint a picture, or hammer a board, or do something instead of sitting there with that ache hanging out all over your stained tee-shirt. HIM: Maybe I should, but I can’t. ME: What do you think would help? HIM: I don’t know. ME: Come on. You can do better than that. HIM: Okay, how about you and I take a few slugs of whiskey, then go down to the cafe and pick up some friends, and go out exploring, like in the old days. ME: Well, I don’t really want to, but just in case it’ll get you to quit slumming around this godforsaken <place> in your <thing>, I’ll fucking give it a shot. HIM: Great, great, champion, that’s great. _HIM is not convinced. ME is not fully awake. The cockroach in the <furniture> stabs bleakly away at his <work in progress>._