Sara looked at the walls. They were randomly covered in words and phrases. Sometimes there was a whole sentence—SHE CLIMBED INTO THE CAR AND SAID DRIVE, JUST DRIVE—and sometimes it was just one word—HELEN or NIGHT. But it was everywhere, from floor to ceiling.

“Todd,” said Sara slowly. “What is this?”

“What does it look like?” said Todd. “No. Okay. You can’t see it.”

He scratched his armpit thoughtfully.

“Can you get me a typewriter?”

Sara looked at the walls again. I don’t think a typewriter would help, she thought.

“I just need to get everything corraled,” said Todd. “The old roundup.”

“Todd, you need to get some rest,” said Sara. “You’ve been under a lot of pressure, I know, what with the divorce and the book doing so well…”

“I don’t have time,” Todd said. “I have to write the new book. It shouldn’t take too long. The first one came out like a river.”

“I don’t know anything about writing,” Sara tried again. “But you look—Todd, you look terrible.”

Suddenly Todd’s head jerked, like someone had slapped him.

“He looked like anyone would look if they’d been him,” he said, his voice mushy like he was talking in his sleep. “He looked like his face was a diary and the diary was full of bad things.”

Todd’s expression changed. He was alert, and worried, now.

“What did I just say?” he said.

“You—I don’t know,” said Sara.

“You heard it, didn’t you,” said Todd anxiously. “What did I say?”

He turned around and scrabbled on the table for a pen.

“Todd,” said Sara. “Come with me.”

“It’s gone.” Todd was angry now. “It’s gone, it won’t come back.”

“Todd—”

“None of it comes back. Do you understand me, Sara? It comes in pieces and it goes and it doesn’t come back. None of it comes back!”

He was staring at her now, rage in his eyes.

“I’d better go,” said Sara.

“Yeah,” said Todd. “Thanks for coming.”

*  *  *

Sara made it to her car without crying. She drove two blocks, then wept at a red light. When the light changed, she was still crying. Cars honked at her. She closed her eyes as they swerved around her, and drove off into the evening traffic.

She never saw Todd again.

*  *  *

Todd sat in his armchair, looking into the darkness. The curtains were drawn, as they always were, and he hadn’t turned the lights on, because he needed the darkness.

The darkness was the only time when Todd could see.

Todd didn’t like what he saw. There were shapes but they had soft edges. Todd knew the shapes were the book, and he knew they would get clearer, and the book would be there.

All he needed was the book to be there.

*  *  *