I felt grubby after the conversation with Dan because it worked on the assumption that I was pointless and depressed, when in fact I was mostly happy and did have a point, which was to read books, take a break from study, and stare all day at Grindr, none of which are activities that harm the fabric of society. They are the same kinds of activities as having a boyfriend, having a job when appropriate, spending time at clubs – just drinking and talking – or smelling the wholesome surface of a coffee cup.

I was worried that in all this hasty talk of summer behaviour, I was not getting enough credit for the careful way I had conducted my life through the end of spring. I had recently impressed myself with a newfound ability to walk down the tender staircase and grab a cleanskin, retrieve a glass, fill it to the tippy-top, and walk it back upstairs, all in perfect darkness, all without spilling a drop.

As the day turned to its bluest hour, blue and late and sour, going out came to seem not just intolerable but impossible – not when I could be lying there with my head close to the window and listening to the washing in and out of cars on Park Street. What I mostly wanted was to hang around by myself, and I wondered what Dan would say if I told him so.

On hook-up apps I’d long since made the horrible commitment of turning myself into one of those negative-zone profiles, black squares that told you nothing interesting about themselves except that they were watching you and everybody else. When I was a teenager, in my small seaside town, I’d represented myself with a languid, ailing-looking selfie that made me uncomfortable not because the photograph was bad but because it was a true and faithful representation of the subject. This suggested it was best to conduct my business in secret, and confirmed the disappointing feeling I’d had when I came out: that I’d been swindled into giving up what might turn out to be the most interesting secret I would ever have. By becoming a black square I felt like a fixing agent, jellied and business like and quivering.

Because everyone appreciates a blank square that is super chill and mellow, I still seemed to scoop up as many drifts of Hi mates and What’s happenings as anyone.

‘heyyyy’ a person said.

‘heyyyy,’ I wrote back, quicker to type the letters out than copy-paste the message. I went and showered. When I emerged it was night, and I was so hot from the shower I could barely peel my socks and undies on. There was no wine left in the house, just the bottles of gunk on the top shelf of the pantry from the people who’d lived in the house before us, Erins and Steves whose mail was still delivering.