"I miss you."

"I miss you, too. So does L.N. He keeps jumping on your chair and then walking away all dejected cause you're not there."

"Did he tell you this?"

"No, he just looks very dejected."

"Mm."

"So you're coming back on Saturday?"

"Hopefully. These guys are really cautious. They're contacting everyone involved in production of the transmitters."

"What for?"
"I don't know, cow byproduct?"

"Be nice."

"It's just a joke. Look, I'm having dinner with them soon. I should have been in the shower by now."

"Okay, take care."

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

I hung up. L.N. jumped on Thom's chair again. He climbed his way to the top, and surveyed the living room.

"Saturday, Leonard." I stroked his ears, and he tilted his head at me. I rubbed his neck. "What time is it?" I looked at the 'Persistence of Time' clock above our stereo.

"Seven twenty-one; you know what that means, right?" L.N. pricked up his ears. I took a few steps towards the kitchen, and he leapt back to the ground. He ran ahead of me and vaulted onto the counter by the mug rack.

I started the kettle and opened Leonard's cupboard.

"No mean ol' Thomas around to worry about your weight," I said, opening a can of wet food. I spooned half of it into the green bowl.

"You aren't even that fat." I squeezed his belly. He continued eating, unfazed. I watched him, resting my elbows on the counter. The sun outlined the curve of his back and made my eyes ache gently. The kettle whistled, which seemed to get his attention. He pressed himself against the wall and hissed at the column of steam.

I took a mug off the rack. I had owned it since the eighth grade, when we took a field trip to the natural sciences center. A pointed bullet tore through a red and green apple, which looked as if it were made of cotton rather than flesh. I actually didn't care much for it, but it was the only one cleaned and dried.

After breakfast, I had about twenty minutes before my car pool. I switched on the television, and L.N. laid down next to me. If Thom were here, Leonard would be on his lap. Why does he like Thom so much better? He's my cat. I got him at least two years before I met Thom. Thom doesn't even give him treats or let him sleep on our bed or anything. What if Thom never came back? What would Lenny do if that happened? I want the cat in my lap.

I grabbed L.N. and placed him in my lap. He sat still for a few seconds, then jumped off. I sat alone until it was time to leave for work.

"Hey, lady." Jerry poked his head out of the tinted window.

"Hey," I called back. I walked round the car and opened the passenger door. There was a case of Bawls on my seat.

"Let me get that." Jerry took the case by the handle and hefted it behind the seats. "The interns on my floor are cramming," he explained. "Also, Bawls is delicious."

"That is the exact reason why I don't drink it."

"It's delicious?"

"Saying 'I want some Bawls' just isn't worth the payoff."

Jerry laughed, and put the car back in gear. "My iPod's in the glove compartment, if you want to listen to anything."

"No, thanks."

"I got the new Arcade Fire."

"I really don't want to listen to anything right now."

"You want me to burn it for you?"

"Yes."

He drove onto the freeway.

"Is something wrong?" He glanced at me, still focused on the road.

"It's not a big deal."

"Ok."

We passed a building covered with huge mirrored windows. I saw the reflection of the Audi pass by, rippling in the imperfections of the glass. I counted blue cars.

"Something is wrong," I said. "Thom's still in India."

"Still? When did he leave?"

"About a week ago. He said the buyers are inspecting every single part of the transmitters. Like, down to the wires and shit."

"Inspecting them for what?"

"I have no idea. Thom suggested cow byproduct." Jerry laughed again. I frowned inwardly. "He's having dinner with them. Probably right now."

"How far ahead is their clock?"

"Eleven hours or something."

"Well, sorry your fiancee has eloped with some Indian businessmen."

"That's really what it feels like."

"Like I said, sorry."

We reached a red light that took nearly two minutes to change. Every day, we seemed to reach it just as it changed. Jerry reached behind the seats.

"Want some of my Bawls?"

"Not if you say it like that."

"Would you like some Bawls guarana energy beverage, Leah?"

"Yes, I would, Jerry." He opened the bottle for me. I took a sip. Jerry let out a little moan.

"Cut it oooouuut." I punched his arm.

We entered the elevator. Jerry pushed the buttons for my floor and his.

"Such a gentleman," I exclaimed. "You let me put your Bawls in my mouth and then you press my button? So classy."

"Got a date tonight," he said, mock-checking his cuticles. "Just practicing."

"Practicing pushing someone's button? You're still driving me home, right?"

"Of course." The elevator slowed to a stop and the doors opened. "I'll see you at four point five."

I shuddered visibly as I stepped out and grimaced at him. "Four point five?" The doors closed.

"Cutting it close, there, Leah."

"Still not late, right?"

"Here's your files for the day."

"Thanks." I turned around and opened the first folder. "Mister Orion?" No one looked up, but a man in the corner seemed to bristle. "Mister Orion?" I said again, directly at him.

"It's Onion."

"I'm sorry?"

"Mister Onion."

"Mister Onion."

"I didn't choose it."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"Nevermind." He stood up and shuffled to the door I was holding open. I looked back at the receptionist, who waved me through the door.

Mister Onion looked to weigh at least three hundred pounds. Round like an onion, I thought to myself, but put it out of mind for fear of uttering it in some form. I slid my mask over my face and put on my gloves.

"Open, please." I disliked friendly dentists. Efficient, that's what doctors ought to be. Onion opened. Puffy gums, extensive plaque buildup, staining, I noted in my mind. Despite the poor condition his mouth was in, his breath smelled of hot chocolate. I fought the urge to put my nose down his throat.

"Looks like someone's been slacking off," I said, scraping plaque off his front teeth.

"I don't like routines." His mouth closed over my mirror. I recoiled in hopefully invisible horror.

"Keep it open, please." I withdrew the mirror and wiped it on my dentist's apron. I cleaned and polished his teeth, then filled the fluoride mouthpiece.

"I don't get the fluoride."

"It's to keep your teeth clean longer."

"I don't mean like that. I mean I don't receive that bit of the treatment."

"Oh." I looked at his file. There was a pink post-it explaining that Mister Onion had a very delicate palate. "Sorry." I held the mouthpiece for a few seconds, then dropped it in the trash.

"Okay, let me fill out your chart, and you can go."

"Nurse?"

"Doctor."

"I'm sorry." He fell silent.

"What is it?"

"It's just...it's just that my teeth feel strange."

I picked up the mirror and metal probe.

"It's probably just the polish; does it feel like you've eaten sand?"

"No, it's- ahh!"

"Open, please." He opened.

I spotted it immediately. His left third molar was covered in blood. I grabbed the hose and siphon, and cleaned it off.

"How does it feel?"

"It feels alright for now."

"I need to consult for a moment, wait here."

I left the room and knocked on Doctor Valentine's office door.

"Who is it?"

"It's Leah. I've got a patient presenting with swollen gums and ruptured pulp chambers." I could hear him stand suddenly. He opened the door.

"Take me to him."

"Mister Onion, it's nothing to be worried about."

"Then why did you go to fetch your colleague?"

"It's rare, is all. It's very easy to treat."

"What is this anyway?"

"Gomphytic Vasculitis is a rare infection that inflames the blood vessels in the jaw. Sometimes the pressure from the swelling can cause micro fractures or decay in the teeth. Some antibiotics should clear it up no problem."

"Is it covered by my insurance?"

"I'm sure we can come to an arrangement."

"Is this a serious affliction?"

"Mister Onion, the treatment will cost fifty dollars or less. If you leave it be, the infection may spread to other parts of the skull. Then it will be serious. We can administer the drugs right now, and you'll be better in a few days."

He looked out the window. It's just GV, calm down. It's just fifty bucks, stop being such a penny pincher.What exactly was he thinking that I could scold him for? Stop being so reserved; I want to criticize you.

"Alright, I'll have it." He gave a dramatic defeated sigh.

"Good. Thank you, Mister Onion."

He nearly fainted when I brought out the needle, but I massaged his gums and he didn't even notice when I injected the antibiotics. "Finished," I announced. He looked up, surprised, but said nothing. I filled out his chart and called for

"Mister Phillips?"

As he promised, Jerry was sitting by the elevator at half past, reading a National Geographic about the ocean.

"Just the ocean? Water?"

"Nudibranchs. Crabs. Coral. Phytoplankton."

"You've been here a while, I see."

"Not really." He set down the magazine and pressed the call button. He waited for a few seconds, then pressed the button again.

"Someone must have called it to another floor."

"I didn't hear it move," he said defiantly. He sat down and found his place in the magazine.

"Don't sit down, it'll be here any second."

"Just enough time to read about-"

The elevator arrived. Jerry put the magazine down forcefully. He pressed the "B3" button.

"One of my patients had GV."

"GV?"
"Gomphytic Vasculitis. It's a swelling of the jaw that can cut off blood flow to teeth."

"Ah."

"It's really rare."

"Oh."

"It's because the jaw isn't directly associated with any mucus membranes."

"Ok."

"So the bacteria can't get in, usually."

We arrived at my complex at five-ten on the dot.

"See you tomorrow," he said as I got out.

"Good luck! Push her button."

He waved and rolled up the window.

I opened the door to my apartment and set my purse on the table. I stood for about a minute. Usually, L.N. would have rushed out to rub up against my legs by now. Usually, Thom would be here, watching TV, or eating toast, or reading a book, or in the shower. He would be here, anyway.

"Lenny, come here!"

I moved to his cabinet and rustled around a bit.

"I guess you don't want a fish biscuit, then." I rumpled the bag.

"Leonard Nimoy, come out right now!"

I checked all the doors to see if maybe he had gotten trapped in the bathroom again. Or the laundry room. I checked the windows. They were all locked. Under the bed, there was a pair of slippers Thom had bought me. If I wore slippers, it would have been a really good gift. They were comfortable the two times I wore them. I took off my shoes and put on the slippers.

"God damn it, Leonard..." I thought about calling Thom, but it was four-thirty in the morning in India. Jerry was on a date, supposedly. If I called him, and he turned out to be lying, it would be embarrassing for the both of us. I let the phone be.

I wasn't hungry, but I opened a box of garlic bread and put it in the oven.

The phone rang.

"Oh, Jerry..."

I picked up the phone. "Didn't go too well?"

"What?" It was Thom.

"Oh, hi. Sorry, I thought you were someone else. "

"Who?"

"Nevermind- what are you doing up so late? Isn't it..." I checked the clock. "Five in the morning?"

"Yeah."

"Well, what's going on?"

"I can't sleep," he croaked.

"No shit." He didn't respond. "I can't find L.N."

"What??"

"I can't find L.N.. I was going to call you, but I thought you'd be asleep."

"Did you check the bathroom?"

"Of course I did."

"He's been getting stuck in there lately."

"I know; I checked."

"What about windows? Were any-"

"I checked the windows."

"Well, what the hell happened to our cat, Leah?"

"I don't know, Thom. I looked all over, ok? He's not under the bed, not in the bathroom, not out a window, he's just gone. Relax, you know he'll come back."

"He's never been out of the house, Leah. you don't know what he's gonna do."

"Yeah, well, it's too late, alright? He'll come back, don't worry about it."

"I just said, he's never been outside." Something's burning.

"Shit, something's burning." I set the phone down and ran into the kitchen. Black smoke burst from the oven as I opened the door. I grabbed the tray to pull it out.

"Fuck!" I'd forgotten an oven mitt. I ran my hand under the faucet while the bread smoldered on the tiled floor.

"I burned my hand," I said quietly.

"Sorry."

"Fuck you!"

"What? What now?"

"Stop worrying about the fucking cat!"

"I'm not. I'm sorry you burned your hand."

"I didn't even want garlic bread..."

"I'm sorry." I listened to his breathing. I heard him pouring something to drink. I stood up and collected the blackened pieces of bread. I opened a window and extracted myself to the bedroom. Neither of us had spoken for a few minutes. I could hear him swallowing water. I felt nauseous.

"Are you gonna say anything or what?"

"What are you wearing?"

"My work clothes. And the slippers you bought me. They're really comfortable; I should wear them more often."

"If you were a nurse or policewoman, 'work clothes' would be an appropriate response."

"You're kidding me. Fine. I'm wearing a gimp suit."

"Ew. Take it off."

I went to the closet and unzipped a jacket. I zipped it up again, then down. Then up. Down. Up.

"That's a lot of zippers."

"I had to undo my blinders."

He laughed.

"Don't laugh."

I laid down on the bed and covered my eyes with a pillow. I sighed.

"Now that my limbs are unrestrained, what would you like to do?"

"I want to kiss you."

"I want to kiss you too. Thomas, I miss you so much."

I could hear him breathing heavily. I took shallow breaths for him.

"The second I get off the plane, I'm gonna pull you into a janitor's closet and- ahh- hhhk" His breath grew faster. "We went to a strip club after dinner. I didn't think they'd have them in India, or at least not the same. Not exactly the same-Mmm- They wanted to buy me a dance, but I couldn't, I couldn't do it, so I took a cab back home. I just sat on the bed, wishing you'd call-"

"Thom, I thought you'd be asl-"

"I want to come home. I want to come home more than anything in the world. And I know you're angry with me for- for- for staying here so long, I know you're lonely and the cat doesn't like you. I'm trying so hard to sell. This is it, Leah. When this goes through, I'm getting the promotion. I'm getting the promotion and we're moving out of the apartment and we're buying a house and it'll have- uhgk- a fireplace- ahhhh- aah- and an enormous fucking window in the bedroom that looks out over fffffuck- a rivveRHAaah!!"

I slowed my breathing and swung my legs over the side of the bed.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck," he whispered, eight thousand miles away.

"Did you come?" he asked, only a bit louder. I pretended not to hear.

I took off my slippers and wandered into the kitchen. At least I haven't reached this point yet. At least I can sleep.

"I love you so much, Leah."

I nodded into the phone. I knew he would receive it. The room still smelled horrible, but I had developed an appetite.

"I promise you, I'm trying as hard as I can to get home. And I promise we're going to get that house."

"Thom, get some sleep."

He laughed weakly. "I have to get up in two hours."

"Well, go to sleep early after your meeting. You need to take care of yourself."

"I will," followed by silence.

"Good night, Thom." I hung up.

I heated up last night's dinner- chicken and rice from the Chinese restaurant down the block. Faced with the prospect of booking a table for one, I thought I'd end up killing myself as the waiter brought me another Tsing Tao, not even showing the courtesy of doing it in a restroom, but when I arrived, it was surprisingly relaxing. I read Clinton's memoirs and listened to Frank Sinatra on my iPod. A new experience. I'd never been socially permitted to treat a restaurant like my home.

I ate my dinner while I watched LOST. I had little interest in the program as of late. I switched it off when I finished eating. With nothing else to do, I climbed into bed and fell asleep.

"How was your date?"

"I'd rather not talk about it."

"Oof."

"Here." Jerry handed me a jewel case. He'd written "NEON BIBLE" on the disk, and printed out a lyrics insert. He'd drawn a reasonable facsimile of the album art on the front of the insert.

"Oh, how could she say no to this?"

"Burned CDs and sex aren't exactly the same thing."

"Well, thank you. Is it any good?"

"You asked yesterday. It's really, really good."

I don't remember that.

"You did," he said, seeing my puzzled face. "You asked me when I told you I could burn it for you."

"Ok." The car stopped, and we climbed out into the parking complex.

Jerry pushed the "5" button.

"The offices are on the seventh floor, now."

He pushed the "7" button.

"I've been having trouble putting my shoes on," Jerry whispered. "They keep slipping."

I looked down at his feet.

"They look okay to me."

"This is ten minutes of hard work," he hissed. The doors opened. I nearly stepped out, but remembered my office's relocation. Jerry began laughing.

"What's so funny?"

"I was just thinking-" he continued laughing, "what would happen if I operated using my feet. I'd fillet every patient I had!" He hunched over and put his hands on his knees. The doors opened again, and I rushed out.

"Mister-" Mister Orion's name was the first on my list.

"Mister Orion?" A huge coat rustled in the corner. It stood up, and fell away to reveal a giant onion. Purple. It swelled angrily.

I woke up.

I opened the door and left it open, in case L.N. showed up. I checked the clock. Seven. I poured a bowl of cereal and watched the news. "Police are still pursuing leads in the murders of Platcom employees Tom Roth and Frank Julius. Police chief Heather Fong says the killer will be brought to justice, quote: 'no matter how long it takes.'"

Thom had been present on the day of the murder. The link between his and Tom Roth's names caused a month-long depression and paranoia that continued until his second day in India. On that night, he ate at a Malvani restaurant and ordered Kombdi Vade. One of the investors looked at him very strangely as he ordered. Thom asked what was wrong, and the man told him he had grown up in Malva. His grandmother, he said, raised chickens for the express purpose of cooking Kombdi Vade on Dussehra. With tears in his eyes, he regaled Thom with stories of his

childhood, the history of his region, the festivals his family participated in. Thom called me immediately after dinner (I was on my lunch break at the time) to recount his experience.

"It's beautiful here, Leah. We visited a temple before dinner. It looks like a fucking castle. It's right in the middle of the city, and there's movie posters and newspaper stands around it, but inside, it's amazing. It's a temple to Ganesha, so there's huge statues of bowls of fruit and a carving of him in the lobby that's at least eight feet tall. I want to bring you here. It's amazing."

He'd never been off the continent. As a child, I visited China, France, Greece, and Egypt. In college, I studied abroad in Germany in my junior year. Having been around the world a couple times, I no longer felt a connection with Thom's childlike enthusiasm for travel.

He doesn't like it so much now, anyway, I thought to myself. I finished my cereal and closed the front door. I checked the clock. Nervous habit. Seven fourteen. I should listen to that CD; he went through all that trouble. I opened my purse. Not here...

I checked on top of the stereo. On top of the television. IN the stereo. On my dresser. In my laptop. "Shit," I sighed. I'd be too embarrassed to ask him for a replacement, but if he asked what I thought of the album, I wouldn't have anything to say.

"Quite a conundrum, Leonard." I sighed as I remembered he wasn't around. I sat down. I thought of channel surfing, but I didn't move. I just sat. Forty minutes later, I stood up and left the apartment.

Jerry's car was waiting in the same space as the day before. I waved and went round to the passenger's seat.

"Good morning."

"Morning."

"How was your date?"

"We played chess."

"Is that good or bad? Because I love chess."

"I really liked it. We were pretty evenly matched. Besides, that wasn't the sum of the evening."

"Why did you mention it, then?"

"Because I know you like chess."

"Oh."

Jerry started the car and pulled out.

"So what else did you do?"

"We ate steak tartare."

"Chess sounds better to me."

"I'd never had it before. I liked that too."

"I hope you didn't surprise her with that. She knew what it was, right?"

"She ordered it. It's her favorite food."

"That's really weird."

"You like sushi, right?"

"I guess, but...but sushi isn't made of cows!"

"Before I forget," Jerry opened the middle-seat cargo space, "I burned this for you."

"I thought you..."

"What?"

"I just realized."

"What?"

"I had a dream last night where you gave me this CD. Your date went really badly. You didn't even want to talk about it. Then you gave me the CD, and when we got in the elevator, the dental offices had moved to the seventh floor. You told me your shoes kept slipping off your feet. Then you started laughing about what would happen if you operated with your feet and I got really freaked out. And then when I called for Mister Onion, I accidentally called him 'Mister Orion' again, and he got angry and turned into an onion."

"That was a long story. Who the hell is Mister Onion?"

"He's the patient with GV. Anyway, this morning I kind of remembered the dream, but I'd forgotten it was a dream and I was really upset because I thought I'd lost the CD."

"Well, here it is." He held the jewel case out to me while trying to watch the road. I took it. "It's in my 'O.K. Computer' case because I couldn't find a blank one. Sorry."

"In the dream, you drew the album art on the front of a little booklet with the lyrics inside. It was really nice."

"Sorry again."

"It's ok."

"Computer."

"Nooo! Don't do that."

"Just don't lose the case, alright?"

"Oll Korrect."

"Is that what o.k. stands for?"

"I learned it last week. I also learned what FUBAR stands for, which apparently everyone else already knew."

"Fucked Up Beyond All Repair."

"Yes, I just said you knew it."

We reached the red light. After about a minute of staring at the car next to us, I said, "I had phone sex with Thom last night."

He turned his head to me and raised his eyebrows slightly.

"What?"

"I didn't really need to hear that." He looked forward again.

"I'm sorry."

The light still hadn't changed.

"It was just really weird, is all. He was telling me about the house we're going to buy."

"And then?"

"And then nothing. He talked about our house while he jerked off."

"Ok, I'm done talking about this."

"Me too."

The light changed, and Jerry was cut off by a Safeway cargo truck.

"FUCK YOU!" He shouted out the window. He moved forward, only to be stopped at another red light. "God damn it," he groaned. "We usually get past this one..."

"You could call Safeway corporate and report the driver," I suggested.

"I didn't get his plates," he sighed. "How the fuck did you get off to him talking about a house?" he exclaimed.

"I didn't. I just sat on the bed and went 'ooh' and 'aah' and 'ooohhhmyyyyggooooood.'"

"Really?"

"Not those exact moans, but yes."

"How is that phone sex?"

"It's phone sex in the 'creepy-uncle-calls-1-800-COME-NOW-and-then-hands-you-the-phone' way."

"That never happened to me."

"Me neither, but that's the kind I meant."

"Might this escalate into genuine phone sex?"

"I'm not going into that."

"That means yes to me."

"It might." Pause. "I don't see how I'd get into it, really."

The light changed.

"Just pretend the phone's not there."

"I bet that's what Thom's gonna tell me tonight."

"Probably. We are talking about something else now."

"For reals this time?"

"For reals."

"Okay, let's talk about LOST."

"What about it?"

"I don't like it anymore."

"What about the EMP fence? Or the submarine? Or the WISH ROOM?"

"This is why, you see."

We parked in space B352. Jerry called the elevator.

"So, speaking of pushing buttons..."

"Nope."

"Nope what? Nope, you didn't get any, or nope, a gentleman doesn't kiss and tell?"

"The second would work whether I got some or not."

"So which one was it?"

"The second one."

"You're lame. I told you about my embarrassing night. I bet she didn't even kiss you goodnight, loser."

"She did, and that's as much as you're going to hear."

"Well, that's good."

The elevator doors opened, and Doctor Hanizawa of floor 4 walked out and into the garage. He didn't look at either of us.

"What's up with him?"

"I heard he had a patient in the ICU. Maybe she died?"

"I hope not..."

Jerry pressed 7 and 8.

"Did you have an opportunity to press a button for her?"

"Well, we were going to the same floor. So no."

"But you pressed it, right?"

"Of course."

The doors opened, and I stepped out backwards. "You better spill on the ride home."

"I'll think about it."

"You better, mister." The doors closed.

I turned around. "Shit!" Wrong floor. I was supposed to be on the fifth floor. In the dream, we'd moved to the seventh. There was a large poster of a tick next to the waiting area. I pressed the call button. The tick was black, with a huge belly distended from twice its weight in blood. It wasn't a PSA poster; it was a poster of a tick. There was nothing on the poster except the tick. It made me shuffle my feet a bit.

The elevator arrived, and I hurried inside. I pressed "5."

"Late again, Leah!"

"I'm sorry, I pressed the wrong button on the elevator."

"Well, hurry up! Mister Onion's been waiting for twenty minutes!"

"Mister-" I scanned the room. He was hunched in the corner again, looking so much like an overstuffed garbage bag I hadn't even considered the possibility that it was human. He looked up. "I'll be right with you."

"So, what seems to be the problem?"

"Bgy toof huds agid."

"Er...why don't you lie down on the chair here, and I'll take a look?"

"No. No mrr pging. No mrr hringng."

"I'm sorry, I can't understand you. It would really be a lot easier to solve your problem if I could see your mouth."

"Lggh! Mm mou!" He opened his mouth. I smelled hot chocolate again.

"Please, lie down. I promise I'll just look for now."

He sighed, and heaved himself onto the chair. He wiggled around, trying to get comfortable. I waited.

"Ready?" He nodded. "Open." He opened. His gums were pink and swollen. Blood rimmed all his teeth. His tongue was a bit swollen as well. "Okay, I'm going to do a few tests. Tell me if you feel any pain." I fetched a tongue depressor.

1. Press tongue

2. Press inside mouth (cheeks)

3. Press gums at tooth junctions and mandibular fusion points

"AAah!"

"Sorry." I checked 'yes' in the 'gums' field.

4. Press soft palate

He gagged, and I stepped out of the way quickly. Thankfully, he didn't follow through.

"Alright, Mister Onion. Looks like you've had an allergic reaction to the antibiotics we gave you. Again, a simple treatment. Antihistamines should clear it up within a few days. As for the GV, we'll have to find a new treatment. We're going to do some tests to find something you won't react to." He looked very frightened at the prospect. "Don't worry, we'll find something." I knew that wasn't what he was worried about. He didn't correct me.

Like the day before, the rest of the patients were very routine. One woman brushed her teeth with raw eggs, she told me, because they made her teeth shinier. I couldn't hold back the shock. She glared at me upside down as I continued her cleaning.

"Mister Onion had a reaction to those antibiotics."

"I heard. You have him on antihistamines, right?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Hopefully he won't be back tomorrow."

"You're not the one that has to touch him all the time."

"Well, we'll see."

Jerry wasn't at the elevator. I called it and sat down. The door opened, and Jerry stepped out.

"Oh, hey."

"Ready to go?"

I stood up and nodded.

"Which floor were we on?"

"...No idea."

"I think it was the third."

"Okay." He pressed 'B3.'

The elevator had a weight capacity of 4200 pounds. The floor buttons had braille labels. I read the emergency instructions.

"So are you ready to speak, or should I go fetch 'The Box'?"

"I don't like the sound of that..."

"You won't like what's in it, either."

"We kissed."

"That's it?"
"That's it. There you go."

"Jeez, that's pretty disappointing."

"If you hadn't concerned yourself with it, you'd be less put out right now."

"I guess you're right, but you already told me you kissed. You should have held that back for right now."

"Is that how it's done?"

"That is how it's done, Jerry."

It was raining. There was a traffic jam.

'We know of an ancient radiation/ that haunts dismembered constellations/ a faintly glimmering radio station'

Appropriate. I found myself singing under my breath and realized that Jerry was doing the same.

"While Frank Sinatra sings stormy weather, the flies and the spiders get along together"

I unfocused my vision and watched white spots speed past in the opposing lane. Red spots hung like Christmas lights in our own. I closed my eyes.

"Cobwebs fall on an old skipping record"

"This was my favorite song when I was in ninth grade."

"Mine was 'Mad World,'" he said sheepishly.

"That cover was amazing!"

"I didn't mean-"

"Oh."

"I meant the Tears for Fears-"

"Oh Jesus."

"I can't go on."

"How did that even happen? You saw the movie and then- how?"

"I'm not talking about it. Dark days, those were."

"Did you wear a leather jacket in ninth grade?"

"Please."

"Did you wear your sunglasses at night?"

"Please, too much pain."

"I understand." I gave him a mock 'I'm so sorry about what happened to you' sad look. We came to the glass-walled building. I could see a plane flying past in the rippled reflection. "I haven't been to the beach in a long time."

"That's a strange thing to think about in this weather."

"I just mean the water. I used to bike down to the Marina twice a week. I haven't been in like a year now."

"I used to hike a lot."

"And what happened to that?"

"Nothing, really. I just stopped."

"When are you seeing her again?"

"Tomorrow."

"Ok, I'll grill you then. Good evening."

"Bye." He closed the door for me and drove off.

L.N. was still missing. Not that I'd given him much opportunity to come back inside, but he had left without any opportunity at all. I switched on the kettle and took off my jacket. It clacked against the table as I set it down. Patting it down for the source of the noise, I discovered the CD. I opened the case. "Neon Bible by The Arcade Fire (feel free to skip track one -J)" was written on the disc in Sharpie. I placed it into the stereo and started it up.

I sat down. Six oh six.

'I will walk down to the ocean/ after waking from a nightmare/ no moon, no pale reflection/ black mirror, black mirror' The kettle whistled.

'Shot by a security camera' I took a brick-colored mug off the rack. 'You can watch your own image' I chose "Elephant Convoy" black tea. 'And also look yourself in the eye' I poured water over the bag. 'Black mirror' I set the kettle down. 'Black mirror' I took the mug to my seat 'Black mirror'.

Elephant Convoy was a black tea, but it did nothing to keep me alert. Before the album was even half over, I climbed into bed with a book. Couldn't remember the title.

"Wake up."

"Leonard?" Leonard is a cat.

"I said wake up!" Someone slapped my face. I managed to open one eye. "Good."

"Who-" I was slapped again.

They carried me into a silver car. It was so early that no one was around to see. I couldn't make a sound. They're going to rape you. No they're not. They could have done that in the apartment. They are going to rape and kill you.

"Your fiancee has become quite the liability overseas, Leah."

"How do you know Thom? How do you know me?"

What time is it?

"Platcom Appropriations Committee. We know everything about the both of you."

Even...? "Your infidelities, for example," said the other man.

"You haven't told-"

"No. We haven't deemed it necessary at this point."

"'At this point'?"

"No. It wouldn't be helpful, as far as we can project."

"What do you mean by 'liability' anyway?"

"You live with the man; you must know at least that Trebuchet is a very valuable proprietary of Platcom."

"And?"

"And is it not true that he constantly complains of the Indian investors examining our products diode by diode?"

"You tapped our phone? What provision of the-"

"Please, Miss. Is it not true?"

"It is."

"Then you understand our concerns that Indian communications firms are attempting to backwards-engineer our highly complex, highly valuable technology."

"What does this have to do with me?"

"You spurned Thomas' advances last night."

"I don't see how that's any of your business."

"The Indians are detaining Thom in order to break down his loyalty to the firm. There are certain data that we disclosed to higher-ranking employees. They were told and trusted to keep the information secret, but a man in his position can only hold out for so long."

"And so I'm supposed to enjoy it when he's crying into the phone and jerking off to a house? No thank-" He slapped me again.

"You don't have to enjoy it. You have to help him enjoy it. Thomas went to bed with intense feelings of rejection and loneliness. At current rates, he will disclose vital information within the next three days."

"Why don't you just fly him back here?"

"Thomas is our best salesman. Despite the fact that the Indian government is sneaking about trying to steal Trebuchet, Platcom has been suffering due to the recent murders. As such, we are put in the difficult position of working with thieves. If our salesman were supported by his loved ones, he would be able to make the sale, and our profits would rise by several million dollars. However, with his fiancee being a difficult bitch, I doubt he'll be able to meet with them, much less sell."

"I'm not going to degrade myself like that just so your stupid fucking company can stay in the black! This has nothing to do with me!"

"You don't seem to underst-"

"Buy him a hooker and leave it at that, would you? I'm not doing it!"

"Kyle, pull over."

The car stopped. We were on a dirt road.

"Where are we, anyway?"

"Get out."

"What?" He gave me a solid punch in the gut.

"Get. Out. Of. The. Car." Breathless, I opened the car door and stumbled onto a patch of dirt near a grassy hill. He followed.

"Get on your knees." He shoved my head down, without waiting for me to refuse. My breath returned and I started coughing. I heard a heavy series of clicks. I looked backwards, and he shoved a pistol against my cheek. My legs were cold. What time is it?

"We have men stationed in Mumbai. They were on the same plane as Thomas. On my signal, he will be killed by three different sharpshooters at the same time. I suggest you take this into consideration."

"You want me to believe that? Fuck you."

"In that case, Miss Wight, you have twenty seconds before I pull this trigger. This is the time for last words or the Lord's Prayer."

"You can't!"

"Last. Words."

"Ple-" The gun roared. That wasn't twenty seconds. I smelled burnt powder.

He clutched a handful of my hair. "aAh!"

"Next time, we're using real bullets. Think about our conversation." I heard him turn. "Let's get out of here."

The phone rang. I was hesitant to pick it up.

"Hello?"

"Hi."

"Jesus Christ, I had the worst dream just now."

"What was it?"

"These suits came to our apartment and dragged me into a car. They told me that the Indian investors were squeezing you for details about Trebuchet. They said I had to do...something, I can't remember. They said if I didn't, they'd kill you. I didn't believe them, so they pulled me outside and staged a mock execution."

"Right outside our building?"

"No. no...we were driving while the guy was talking. We were on a dirt road."

"That sounds like a weird dream."

"It was really horrible."

"Has L.N. come back yet?"

"No. I forgot to ask the landlord, too. Sorry."

"I'm sorry I got so upset yesterday. I'm just really worried about him."

"It's okay. I am too." I moved to the kitchen and opened the fridge.

"Do you want to talk about last night?"

I closed the fridge. "I'd rather just forget about it, frankly." I opened the fridge again. There was a small tupperware container with twelve green beans inside. I closed it again. I opened the dry goods cupboard and pulled out some bread. "I miss you."

"I miss you, too."

"There's nothing to eat around here."

"I see. So is that what you miss most about me?"

"Of course not. But there's nothing to eat, and you're an awesome cook."

"I had some really good naan at a street fair today."

"Are you even trying to sell them this thing?" I shoved the bread into our toaster angrily.

"Of course I'm trying to sell it. Leah, I just told you yesterday I've been trying as hard as possible. They just keep inviting me to these events and dinners and I keep telling them I have people-"

"Person."

"-waiting for me at home, and they just keep stalling-"

"Maybe those suits were right."

"What, the Indian government is trying to steal company technology?"

"It's the most logical explanation."

"Or they're just more friendly than I can take."

My toast was finished. "Hang on, I need to do something." I spread butter on both slices and set the plate on the end table near Thom's chair. I picked up the phone. "I'm sitting on your chair."

"Ok."

"Computer?"

"What?"

"Sorry."

"Ok again."

"I thought only L.N. was allowed on your chair."

"And me."

"Yeah. So what's going on here?"

"I can't find it in me to be annoyed, alright?"

"You really should get more sleep." I bit into a piece of toast. "Yff gn dg fmm sllp drprvzzn."

"Excuse me?"

"I said, 'you can die from sleep deprivation.'"

"I know."

"So go to sleep! Goodnight."

"Leah."

"What?"

"You know what I miss most about you right now?"

I sighed. Far enough from the phone that he would hear it as an idle, rather than exasperated sigh. "What's that, dear?"

"Your lips."

Last words, Miss Wight?

"I miss your cock." I stood up.

"We giving this another try?"

I pulled the blinds in the living room. "Finish your sentence about the janitor's closet at the airport. 'As soon as I get off the plane-'?" I returned to Thom's chair.

"I'll fuck you so hard you won't be able to stand up."

"Mmmh." I undid my skirt.

"AahFFfuck....I wish you were here. I want to suck your tits."

"I'm wearing that purple bra you bought me."

"Off. Take it off." His breath shook.

We know everything about the both of you.

"Hhahhh- Mm- Oh, my God, Thom, fuck me."

Your infidelities, for example.

"OHhmmFk- take off your panties." I did.

You spurned Thomas' advances last night.

"Christ, I'm so wet-"

On my signal,

He breathed fast and heavily. I did the same. I closed my eyes and grasped the left arm of the chair. My knees buckled, and I knocked the plate of toast off the end table. I tightened my grip on the chair.

Get on your knees.

I could feel the blood pounding in my head. My chest knotted up.

"Harder! Aghhhh!"

This is the time for last words or the Lord's Prayer.

"AHHk- Ah, I'm coming-I'm coming- open your mouth." I did.

In unison: "KkkKHAhh. Aaahhh. Ahh. Fuck. Oh, fuck. Ahh."

The gun roared.

"Christ, that was so good."

"Hahh- hhhhHh." I nodded and brushed the hair away from my eyes. At some point, I had ended up on the rug. I tried to stand, but my legs wouldn't move. "Ahhn...Fuck."

"Hahhh...The maid's gonna have a hell of a time cleaning this up."

"I hhhave to do it myself."

"Ahh. God, I love you."

"I love you... Go to sleep."

"I will. Good night."

"Good night." We hung up. I fell asleep on the floor.

The phone rang again. I sat up. The sun was shining in through the curtains. I crawled to the phone and took it off the hook.

"Hello?"

"Leah, where are you?"

Fuck. "Oh, fuck, what time is it?"

"It's ten-thirty."

"I'll be there as soon as I can." I hung up.

"Sshit..." I gathered up my clothes and got in the shower for two minutes. I got dressed and ran out to the bus stop.

I sat next to an old woman who looked like a witch and smelled like soggy newspaper. I turned on my iPod before she could talk to me. The bus took a different route than Jerry's. It went through the high-class specialty shop district. There was a calligraphy shop. There was also a soap shop. I stopped looking out the window. The woman who smelled of newsprint was sitting at the seat closest to the door. When I arrived at the hospital, it was twelve.

"Okay, you're definitely late today."

I waved and entered the locker room. I got geared up and returned to the front desk.

"File, please."

"Your only patient was Mister Onion."

"Again??"

"It seems the antihistamines didn't work out."

"Is he still here?"

"No, Phillip took care of it."

"Damn it, I just spent an hour getting here..."

"You should have called."

"Is Valentine here?"

"He should be."

After a stern talking-to, I left the office and called the elevator. The doors opened immediately, and I entered. I pressed "8".

"What are you doing here? Where were you this morning?"

"I'll explain that when we're not around....people."

"That sounds like a pretty good story."

"Well, you'll have to wait. Are you busy?"

"For the next ten minutes. You hungry?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Ok, but we can't talk until then." Jerry turned back to his lab table and continued pipetting fluids from a large bottle into tiny plastic vials.

We re-entered the elevator and I pressed the 'L' button. As soon as the doors closed, Jerry turned to me.

"So?"

"I won't have enough time just going from eight to lobby."

"You can finish on the way to the cafeteria."

"Someone might hear me!"

"I have a feeling I know what this story is about."

"You probably do."

"Did you listen to the CD?"

"Kind of."

"Kind of?"

"I kind of fell asleep while I was listening to it."

"Did you kind of enjoy it?"

"Kind of."

"I see."

"While I was asleep, I had a dream that I was dragged into a car by some well-dressed men."

"And you felt their gentle touch?"

"No, they drove me into the woods and shot me."

"Oh! Sorry."

"With blanks, but it was still not funny."

"Why did that happen, exactly?"

"It's related to what I'm not going to tell you until we're where nobody else can hear."

"This is an interesting dream."

"It involves corporate espionage and assassination. Lots of intrigue."

We both chose the Thai noodle salad. He bought a Snapple; I bought a bottle of water.

"I had a consult today from your department," he said. He read his cap.

"Yeah?"

"'The Mona Lisa has no eyebrows.' Yeah, it was Mister Onion, actually."

"What's wrong with him now?"

"He's got an abscess in his tongue."

"EW!"

"Yeah...it was pretty gross. Phillip thinks it's from the administration of the antihistamines."

"He thinks I did it?"

"Well, it's unlikely. Even if you are responsible, you couldn't really predict an abscess from a gums injection. Anyway, we gave him some antihistamine, pills this time; he won't let us come near him with a syringe now."

"What about the abscess? You need antibiotics, and he's allergic."

"We're just going to leave it be."

"Well, at least I'm not liable for malpractice if he drowns in his own pus."

"At least."

After lunch, we returned to Jerry's floor.

"Are you really going to stick around for three more hours?"

"You want to hear the story, right?"

"Oh, come on. I'll just call you later. You're going to be really bored watching me fill out charts." He grabbed a '10 Things You Need to Know about Skin Cancer' brochure and handed it to me. "You've never told me your phone number."

I scribbled down my number and gave it back. "You better not interrupt my and Thom's special phone time."

"And when might that be?"

"Around six, probably."

"That's awfully late for him..."

"Yeah, well, that's when I'll be occupied."

"Alright, I will refrain."

"Ok, I'll see you tomorrow."

"And hear me tonight."

"Right."

I went back down to the lobby. A man sitting in one of the waiting-area chairs looked at me, then looked away when he saw I noticed. He moved his black briefcase from beside the chair to between his feet. He crossed his arms and looked determinedly at the coffee machine. I left the building and shielded my eyes from the sun. Every reflective surface I could see glowed white hot. A man in a black suit walked hurriedly past, brushing my arm with his. He muttered an apology. I sat down at the bus stop. Sweated a bit.

I finally arrived at home at two-forty. I checked our mail slot, took the mail, and climbed the stairs to our floor. I opened the door and placed the bills, et cetera on the end table. I picked up the toast and plate, and deposited both in the sink. I poured a glass of ice water.

"This morning, Los Angeles saw a turnout of nearly half a million demonstrators for immigrant rights. The rally participants marched up the length of L.A. to City Hall, where they stood, shouting for the mayor. Ten minutes after the bulk of the protestors arrived, Mayor Villaraigosa addressed the crowd, keeping a very neutral tone regarding the is-"

The phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Hello."

"Uh, hi. Aren't you still at work?"

"I finished."

"So I could have just stayed in the air-conditioned hospital and then gone home in your air-conditioned sports car and only been bored for half an hour?"

"Guess so!"

"Well, maybe you don't deserve to hear the story, now."

"You have to tell me!"

"I should have stayed there..."

"Maybe! Tell me what happened!"

"Fine! Thom called."

"And?"

"And I got into it."

I heard him laughing.

I lowered my voice, trying to set an example. "Cut it out! What if someone hears you?"

"I'll tell them my friend was telling me embarrassing secrets over the phone," he whispered.

"I'll kill you," I hissed. What is that?

"I'll say 'Leah from floor five has been involved in a long-distance rel-"

"Shut up."

"Come on, I'm kidding."

"I think I hear something. Shut up." I set the phone down and stood up. The bedroom. I walked quietly to the bedroom and looked inside. Nothing. Inside the closet. He always gets stuck in there. I opened the closet.

"Lenny!" I grabbed him and held him to my chest. He struggled and scratched my arm. I dropped him and he trotted into the kitchen.

"God damn you, Leonard!" I walked briskly to the phone.

"What was it?"

"Nothing. I thought I heard the cat."

"Have you been looking for him?"

"I've been looking for two days, Jerry!"

"Okay."

"Jesus!"

"Sorry. I didn't know."

I took a sip of water. "I'm sorry. It's just...Thom. And this patient. And the cat's missing. And whenever I come home I just eat something and go to bed at like seven. I don't even watch TV or listen to music. I fell asleep in the middle of Neon Bible, remember?"

"It sounds like you're a little depressed."

"No shit?"

"You want something for that?"

"I have liquor in my own kitchen, thanks."

"I could write you a prescription."

"That's going a little far."

"So is drinkin' away yer sorrows."

"I was kidding. I'm probably just gonna sleep."

"That's not very healthy either."

"I get twelve hours of sleep! That's two hours more than recommended."

"I meant mentally. People need something to do."

"Thom's coming home eventually." That shut him up. I took another sip of water.

"Don't take this the wrong way, alright?"

"It depends on what you're about to say."

"Do you want me to come over after work?"

"The only way I can take that is the wrong way."

"We're friends, right?"

"Yeah."

"So friends are allowed to hang out at night, alone, when significant others are on the other side of the world."

"I'm really tired, Jerry."

"You're tired because you have nothing to do. I'll come over and you'll be bouncing around in no time."

"This is starting to sound really bad."

"Yeah. I'll just invite myself over and we can avoid any more phone embarrassment."

I took a long shower. Just an hour in the sun had left dark streaks of sweat down my face and back. I put on a black skirt and a purple shirt with an octopus on it. Almost two hours before Jerry was due to show up. I vacuumed the rug for errant toast crumbs. I did the dishes. I checked the clock. I opened the fridge. I closed the fridge. I stacked up my magazines. I refilled the kettle and switched it on. I made the bed. I checked the clock again. The doorbell rang.

"Hey."

He poked his head through the door. "Are you sure we're not having sex?"

"What?"

"Did you shine that silver platter over there?"

"Well, I was about to go to sleep, and then you called and I had to stay awake for two hours. So, yes. I shined that silver platter. And I vacuumed the rug and made the bed and put on the kettle. Would you like some tea?"

"May I come in?"

"Yes."

He entered the apartment. "What sort of tea?"

"I have a lot." I opened the tea cupboard. "This is the tea cupboard."

"Jeez, how did all this pile up?"

"I just buy tea when I'm at the store. Which one do you want?"

"'Elephant Convoy?'"

"It's good."

"Alright, then."

I poured water into a ceramic teapot and fetched two mugs. "Do you want the Platcom 20th anniversary mug or the Dreamweaver mug?"

He shrugged. I set the Platcom mug down in front of him. He looked at the cupboards. Then he looked at the clock. "That's an interesting clock."

"I bought it in Florida. It's from that Dali painting."

"The Persistence of Time."

"Yeah."

The tea was ready. I filled up the two mugs and poured some milk into mine. Jerry looked at the milk, bemused.

"What?"

"I guess I'm used to drinking tea in the Asian way. No milk or nothing."

"Well, you don't have to put milk in yours, ok?"

"You know, right after you left, I got a call from your office. Mister Onion showed up again."

"What? What for?"

"He forgot his book in the waiting room. He still didn't look any better, though, she said."

"Who?"

"The receptionist. Claire?"

"It's Clarice."

I took a sip of tea. Jerry watched the steam rise off of his. After a couple minutes, the steam had almost completely dissipated and he finally drank.

I set my mug down. "Are we going to talk or something?"

"We could."

"Why did you come over if you didn't have anything to say?"

"You know why."

"Do I?"

"Because I'm worried."

"Because I'm so lonely? Because I can't live," I stood up, "without my darling fiancee? I won't live without him?" He remained seated. I walked round the table to him. "I saw you checking the cupboards. What for, Jerry? Think you're gonna find some xanax hidden in an aspirin bottle?"

"What? I was just-"

"Thom is coming back, and I'm going to be here when he does."

"Leah-"

"If you're going to say something about my personality type or some shit, get the fuck out right now."

He stared straight ahead, refusing to make eye contact. I didn't move. He drank some tea quietly. "You said it yourself, you haven't done anything since Thom left. Anything. You can't even sit through a forty-five minute CD without passing out. What if Thom left you?"

"Don't even suggest that to me you f-"
"Fine. What if he died? Disappeared? Left your life by some means. I don't want this to be the way you'd live without him."

"We're getting married so I don't have to worry about things like that."

"I wouldn't say that's the best reason."

"And we love each other- Christ." I walked over to the living room and sat in Thom's chair. Jerry continued to sit in the Kitchen. I rubbed my eyes.

"I was checking the cupboards for the liquor you mentioned," he said. It echoed through the silent apartment.

I laughed weakly. I stood up and returned to the kitchen. I opened the top left cupboard and did the "behind door number two" wave of the hand. "I'm going to open one of these up. You can join, if you want."

"I do now." We both laughed a little. I opened Thom's vodka.

"He got this as a gift," I said. "Chechnyan investors sent a crate of it to the office."

"I saw a video involving some Chechen rebels once."

"Ugh, don't. I saw it too."

"Pour me another." I did. I got two down before he finished.

Leah and Jerry: "I been drivin' all niigh bathin' in fluorescent ligh, of a western Tennessee gas station/ Witapack of two-way action I'm subsisting on a fragtion and I close my eyes and pretend/ that I'm on vacatiooooon/ But the light bleeds through/ and it's all green-blue/ there goes my imagination-"

air guitar solo

Leah: "My return fills me with dread/ will my house plants be all dead/ my significant be with another/ I say 'ok where was I'/ but I can't repress a sigh/ and I think I'm gonna, yeah I think I'm gonna call my motheerrrr"

Jerry: "You know that song better than I do."

Leah: "I love that fucking song, man."

"I know. That whole album is just- real good."

The phone rang.

"Oh, damn. That's Thom, I bet."

"Oh shit, you have to let me listen!"

"Fuck, it's Thom."

"I really want to hear it!"

"God damn it."

I picked up the phone. Jerry leaned in close, covering his mouth and doing a bad job of hiding his laughter.

"Hey, honey."

"How'd you know it was me?"

"Because it's seven in the morning over there. Did you stay up all night again?"

"I don't want to talk about that." Thom's voice was tight and he was breathing with sharp inhalations.

"Oh?"

"I want you."

"Yeah..."

I pushed Jerry away gently and stumbled into the bedroom. I closed the door behind me. I heard Jerry clinking some glasses in the kitchen.

"We went to another strip club."

"What, you didn't tell them you're engaged? Or did you realize that I'm fine with you going to titty bars?"

"Are you drunk?"

"Yes. I drank your Chechnyan vodka."

"All of it?"

"Yeah."

"By yourself??"

"....Yes."

"Well, be careful, I guess. Strong stuff."

"Any progress on the deal?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"The inspection is winding down. They still haven't said anything about buying."

We were quiet.

"Thom, I want you to come home."

"I will, I promise. We're close."

"I mean now. I don't care about the house; I need you back."

"What? Leah-"

"I mean it, Thomas! These past few days- I can barely stay up past eight. I can't...do...anything. I can't read, I can't watch TV, I can't even listen to music without falling asleep."

"It's been hard for both of us, okay? Don't think I've never thought about just getting on a plane and coming home"

"So do it. I want you on the next plane out of India."

"I don't have the energy for this, Leah."

I opened the door quietly and waved at Jerry. He looked up, curious. I waved again. He stood up and came to the door.

"Listen to this," I whispered as quietly as possible, "and don't make a fucking sound." He put his ear to the phone. I gave a loud false moan. Jerry turned to look at me, but I pointed frantically back to the phone.

"-do anything!"

I smiled. "Anything?"

"Anything you want. I can take it."

"Lick my feet, you worm. You disgusting fucking maggot."

"Agh- Ahhh- ggnnn" Thom could be heard dragging his tongue across a counter or something equally unsanitary.

"Good boy." I sighed. I swooned and fanned myself, which nearly made Jerry laugh straight into the phone. He slapped my arm and bit his lip.

"Ah-All clean, mistress."

"You're such a good boy, Tommy."

"Please- the irons."

"Of course, Thomas." I began rummaging around in the top drawer of my dresser. "Oh? I seem to have misplaced the key, dear."

"Ahh- but-but-"

"Don't worry- I have a spare."

"The circulation-"

"I think I left it..." I shrugged at Jerry. He looked around the room and pointed at the potted lily on the windowsill. "...In the flowerpot. The one on the windowsill."

"I can't reach..."

"Let me help you." I grunted, hefting an imaginary flowerpot. I overturned it on his face. "There- I'm sure you can find it through all that."

"Thhg Yb Bstrsss," Thom said, presumably holding a blanket over his face.

At this point, Jerry left the room clutching his stomach and shaking uncontrollably.

"You keep looking." I hung up.

I sat next to Jerry on the couch.

"That was awesome. How did you get him to play along with that?"

"It fit the mood."

"Poor Thom."

"He deserved it."

"Did he?"

"I hope so. I'm going to bed."

"Leah."

"Yeah?"

"I'm really drunk. I don't think I should drive."

"Well, I'm really drunk, too, so you're not sleeping in my bed."

"That's fine."

"Okay, goodnight."

Urgh. Head. I opened my eyes slowly, wincing at the sunlight coming in. I crawled out of bed and washed my face. Seven thirty.

"Wake up, guy." I pushed him with my foot.

"Urghblrgh-"

"It's seven thirty."

"Grggh." He rolled off the couch and climbed to his feet.

"You look awful."

"Ffuckifmmmr."He sat down and closed his eyes. "I think 'm calling in sick."

"I still need to get to work."

"Shitfuck, my head..."

"Come on, you can do it."

"Yeah, hang on." He washed his face in the kitchen sink. "You ready?"

"I'm ready to sit in the car, at least."

I covered my face in a jacket I found in the back seat of the car. As the car turned, I saw the familiar route going past.

"This feels weird."

"Bfuhh."

"You coming in?"

"Fuck no, I'm going home."

"How am I getting back?"

"Get a ride with Clarice or whatever her name is."

"Ok. Be careful."

"Yeagh."

"Are you alright? You look sick."

"I'm fine. List?" She handed me my list for the day. "What the fuck! Mister Onion again? What is it this time?"

"He's here for surgery."

"Huh?"

"You and Phillip are going to lance the abscess and do some work on his gums."

"I was not informed."

"It's not a big procedure. Just go on in; they're probably prepping right now."

"Good morning, Phillip, Mister Onion. We ready to begin?"

"I just finished applying novocaine and antibiotics."

"Would you like to do the honors?" I held out the vacuum syringe to Phillip.

"Be my guest," he said. "You're the one who did this," he hissed. Mister Onion didn't seem to hear.

"Open, please." He opened. My own mouth dropped open behind my mask. His gums were swollen to three times normal size. White spots of pus shone throughout his mouth. Under his tongue, I could see an enormous swelling the size of a grape.

Fuck.

"We've administered novocaine, but you may still feel pressure or a little pain," I said. I took a deep breath, and grabbed hold of his tongue. It struggled out of reflex. I readied the syringe, and pushed it carefully into the abscess. Mister Onion groaned in pain. I could see Phillip standing in the corner, smiling quietly. I began fighting a lump in my throat. Mister Onion gagged, and once again, I jumped away to avoid it.

"Oh, shit!" I had forgotten to let go of the syringe. "Fuck!" Pus poured out of Mister Onion's tongue and into the space below. I grabbed the siphon and drained the fluid out. I held it to the abscess to catch the pus that still flowed. Mister Onion gagged again, and vomited.

"Oh, fuck." Phillip rushed over and handed me a paper towel. "Mister Onion, I need you to stand up."

Mister Onion struggled with the arm rests on the operating chair. I wiped his orange sick off my arms. Phillip held Onion's arm and pulled. The chair gave way to the man's corpulence, and it toppled over with him inside it.

"Fuck!"

"Fuck!"

"Call a nurse!"

Mister Onion belched, and another wave came pouring out over my feet. I pushed the red button over the sink. My shoes were caked with vomit. Mister Onion began convulsing.

"Hemorrhage! Get Valentine in here now!"

I rushed out of the room and pounded on Doctor Valentine's door.

"Doctor, we've got serious complications in room 7!"

"What sort of complications?"

"Fucking serious! Get out here now!"

"I need 5 mils of sedative, right now!"

"It's going to be alright, Mister Onion, just calm down. Calm down. You're alright."

"He's seizing!"

"Another allergy?"

Mister Onion slammed his head against the counter.

"Hold him down!"

He thrashed again. His face went straight into the nurse's thigh. She was knocked over; blood and pus squirted out from Mister Onion's closed mouth.

"Jesus Christ- hold him down, people!"

Onion had left a bloody lipstick print on the nurse's leg. She stumbled out of the room to be sick. He vomited again. Just bile this time. The smell filled the tiny room. I pressed down hard on his leg, but he still couldn't be stopped moving. After five minutes of struggling, he stopped.

"All tired out now?" Phillip stood up and leaned against the counter.

"He's not breathing."

I squeezed into the closet and held the door shut. My breath was ragged and my entire body was shaking. I kicked over a bottle of detergent. It knocked over a broom. I could hear people talking outside.

"She administered the antibiotics."

"She let the abscess burst."

"He's her patient."

"Miss Wight, come out of this closet."

"You're not helping anybody by hiding." The doorknob turned in my hand. I pressed my foot against the frame and leaned backwards.

"Your fiancee is dead."

"It was an unkind thing you and your friend did."

"He told them."

"'We just cross the terminals-that way the signal is renewed at each waypoint'- he told them. Platcom is going under already."

"Our stocks fell seventy percent in five hours."

"Open this door."

"Open the door so we can fucking kill you, you bitch!"

I opened the door and stepped outside.

"You think you can give me a ride home, Clarice?"

"Of course." She hugged me.

I took a shower when I got home. Then I went to bed.

The phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Hey."

"Hey."

"I'm coming home."

"When?"

"I'm at the airport."

"Thank you."