I felt an uncontrollable terror on that couch, as if my life were speeding away from me, slipping and sliding, like a visual gag. I drew a rough sketch of the apartment and mailed it back to my mother with a note that said, ‘I’m very happy here.’ In many ways, I missed her, her way of looking at the world. She would have referred to my stint on the couch as ‘a little holiday’.

The evenings my boyfriend disappeared, I went to the pharmacy and picked up things. American things that made me happy: teeth-whitening strips, colourful candy, painkillers, sleeping tablets. On the street, not far from the psychic’s office, was a store shaped like a large barn that had everything I needed. I spent shameful hours in the yellow light. The sight of a mustard bottle and a ketchup bottle side by side often moved me to tears. It seemed so wholly patriotic, like the flag that billowed from the comedian’s fake university.

One quiet evening, as she scanned through my items, I spoke to the counter-girl. She was young and I wondered if she went to college, had a father who mocked her intelligence, a boyfriend who picked her up from work. I went on like this for a while before I said, ‘I like this store.’

‘It’s okay.’ She examined my tablets, eyeing the amount and dosage carefully. ‘Are you taking a long and nervous journey?’

I thought of my walk from the television to the cupboard.

‘Yes.’

She continued scanning. I looked at her.

‘You probably want to be famous,’ I said. ‘All young girls do, but let me tell you, my boyfriend’s famous and it’s not worth a damn.’

She took in my tatty coat, my unwashed hair. People can be very critical with their eyes.

‘He has some trouble on the internet,’ I continued, ‘it’s nasty on there.’

Any space between us closed up.

‘Who is he?’

I told her his name.

‘Don’t get excited,’ I said. ‘He listens to a laugh track at night, he’s going very weird. He believes it keeps him funny. It’s a fantasy. He’s a fantasist.’ I rolled my eyes in an exaggerated way. ‘He has a lot of things wrong with him, deep in his soul. Have you ever met anyone like that? And I think he’s sleeping with other women. You could be one of those women if you liked? I mean if that’s something you wanted to do – sleep with someone famous and tell your friends about it?’

She was quiet for a while. ‘No thanks.’

‘Cool,’ I said. ‘Thank you for your service.’ I breezed into the open air with my plastic bag of new belongings. Out on the street I paused and thought: I will not be a person who abandons others. No, that’s simply not me. I walked back into the store and confronted the counter-girl.