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2002-04-08 - 1:56 a.m. Yes, we will have that conversation until the wee hours, I would have transferred the telephone's murmur from one reddened ear to another, you would have shifted positions (lying, crouching, sitting cross-legged till the backs of your knees are sweaty) as if you were receiving telepathic messages from a painter who thinks you're his model, but if it’s time to end we must follow that secondary school protocol, count together 1, 2, 3, and put down the receiver, the one still holding on, perhaps expecting the other to pick the phone up again, stunned by the abruptness of parting, perhaps listening out for the faint sounds beyond the muteness of a replaced receiver, trying to decipher footsteps or bed-creaks or happy-sighs, is the weak one and this weakness will haunt him in whatever he does and the only way to rid himself of the curse is to have him call another person and go through 1, 2, 3 again and let the other person be the one who's left holding on.
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