Caviar Complex

Not that I expect to be awakened before my first meeting of the day. Nor do I expect a fruit cup with plain yogurt. A cup of coffee and a cigaret, watching fog burn off the lake, is reward enough. That's when she touched me, as I remember, the only time there was physical contact, I still bear the wound. I can argue that it was just static electricity, a stored charge. The third night I really wanted to be with her, but I was done with people, took a long slow bath, and washed my troubles away. I assume we'll have occasion to talk about that. What wasn't said. My specialty, as it happens: it's usually what I don't say that's important. My close readers are always chiding me on that point, that I should somehow do something about it. I say fuck it. I miss Diehl, I miss my place in the basement of a de-sanctified church, and I miss, most, the way the fog rolls in. Lake fog is a different thing.