" Stan stood up and went over to the kitchen cupboard. He rooted out an old radio. He tried the batteries and found that it worked. Stan tuned it,...till he came to an easy listening station. He came back, poured me another drink, and bowed at the waist. "May I have this dance, Milady?" I sipped at the drink, feeling the powerful liquor from the previous ones, and decided to play along with Stan. I held out a limp wristed left hand, which he took, and he helped me to stand. His. Yet there is the incredible loneliness which is ever-present. At any moment of the night, he could be amongst the people — he could even be one of the thousands at the arena, one of the hundreds upon a descending airplane, one of the dozens traversing a busy intersection — yet be completely alone, utterly unseen, mattering naught to any other soul unless he accidentally violates someone’s personal space. How long ago was it when he realized that she would eventually learn his truth? It had. More

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