“I want to thank you,” she whispers, leaning in, smelling good, like a rose if a rose were a bit angry. “You helped me feel good about myself during what was a really bleak time for me. You were a supportive presence at a point in my journey when I literally had no one else in my corner. In a different world, who knows? But in this world? Well, no, of course not. I’m sure, being as intelligent as you are, you fully understood that all along. My hope is that you, in here, will always think of me, out there, as a friend. Though we won’t be, uh, interacting much anymore. Or, you know, ever again. Sadly.”

Then kisses me on the forehead and goes out.

I wish to follow up with questions. But she, moving rapidly away with her back to me, fails to see my raised hand.

Soon, from Bedroom, I hear sounds, certain harrowing sounds, energetic, ecstatic, conciliatory sounds of the type that might follow closely upon a frightening, clarifying brush with death.

It just goes on and on.

Good thing adult son Mike is not home, I think.

Later, the Bedroom sounds become more hushed and confidential, less like impact and release: whispered promises, soft confessions of admiration, urgent murmurings that signal the flaring back to life of an old and valued bond.

Next morning Jed comes in.

With Craig and Lauren.

“Ed, Sharon,” Jed says. “This is Jeremy.”

Ed and Sharon nod at me, as in, Hello, new colleague.

They do not seem to remember Listening Room, or me. They just smile shyly as Jed gets their heads nestled into their Fahey Cups.

Mr. U. comes in, smiling, aglow.

“What a morning,” he says. “God’s in His heaven. And all that happy crap. Man, I feel amazing. What do you say we finish that Custer one off? Getting interrupted like that leaves a bad taste in one’s mouth, doesn’t it?”

He is talking to me, I guess. Since Ed and Sharon, freshly Pinioned, are hanging there beaming like memory-free idiots, no offense.

But yes: the abrupt truncation of our Performance has left several bowling pins in my air, so to speak. Having been on Last Stand Hill, on very highest Intensity, encircled by enemies, part of me remains there still, with Custer, dreading my death, even as another part remains with Crazy Horse et al., encircling the hill, arcing arrows up into it.

Mr. U. goes to Podium.

I begin.