I have news.

On this, a warm and rainy day where even on my skin, I can feel the fecundity. And so, alone with my toast, seemingly happy, I fled to work.

It was there, opening the door with a relish, that Gareth informed me Colin, that most contemporary of men, had passed away.

You mean dead? Like many people, Gareth preferred the notion that, like a piece of furniture, one simply moved on. He turned and, accepting my rebuke, headed toward the kitchen. Clearly, this was serious. Gareth and I have known Colin for over fourteen years. We have shared this kitchen, our coffee, our spoons. We have pressed our bodies to the wall, allowing him to pass, and now this. He was dead.

Helen is away. She is in Africa for the quarter. God, we needed her today. How we needed someone to administer the situation. Gareth flapped, I attended to the kettle, and the day passed, but god, we needed Helen.

I walked home, leaving my car, and all my intention, in the centre of town. He was only a little older than me.

I shall frig myself to sleep.