Last Night

The Contessa says will I please go with her to get a drink after work. Say Sure, what's up? She says that she is feeling a little Blue. Maybe a little lonely. Ask her about the man who doesn't drink. She says the not drinking wasn't the problem. The problem was that He has a ferret as a pet. He takes it for walks. On a leash. Am interested -- though horrified -- she expands on theme. The gist of the conversation is that the ferret is only the tip of the weird iceberg. AFter work, we go to local wine bar. Libby appears midway through glass of wine. Sits down without being invited. Orders herself a seltzer with two wedges of lime (very emphatic about the two). Looks at me and says, I could have sworn I saw on on the subway this morning. Assure her in no uncertain tones that she didn't. She says she knows she didn't see me, once she got close she saw the person who she thought was me wasn't. He looked like a younger version of you, she says. Know that best to quickly change topic, but instead, hear self asking, how much younger? She says, I don't know, he just had that fresh faced look. Am definately defeated by story. The Contessa says darkly, none of us are fresh faced anymore. Trip to bathroom confirms diagnosis. Can only hope that Mexican sun will at least give appearance of general health. We cut short drink and part. (Leave Libby in high spirits at bar.) Feeling defeated and much in need of rest go home. Go to bed early. Spend night in rotation between kitchen sink (for water), bed (for paranoid and/or unreasonable thoughts, also painful memories) and the bathroom (see sink). At five, fall into very deep sleep. Dream that apartment extremely dusty and in need of a good vacuum. While cleaning, discover previously unknown closet at the back of which is a small door that leads into dusty hallway with Chains. Have creeping awareness that Someone has been entering and leaving the apartment at will.