I had plenty of time to consider all the details, turning them over and over as if that would make them change. I could not go down to the bunk room, of course I couldn’t, so I stayed upstairs on the couch, trying to keep my mouth still and constantly needing to pee. I turned on the TV hoping Rage was on, but this was the holidays, it only felt like the weekend.

I inspected my cut every time I went to the bathroom. It was deep and tender, but no longer very bloody, clear and pinky-orange, accessible as skin. It must have been a little blood, mixed with a lot of water. Or it had been a lot of blood but the cut had been cleaned in the bay; I found some Dettol and rubbed it in, which stung and felt pointless.

I found a plastic bag under the kitchen sink and dumped the tell-tale shoes into it, bunny-eared the handles, and hid the bag carefully behind my own backpack, which had been shoved in the corner of the kitchen.

Finally, the sky rolled up and dragged with it the smell of several makes of hairdryer, malfunctioning in tandem and whirling through the world, expelling vigorous blasts of air. Birds that cawed like crows began their dawning noises. I promised myself and the world to never again do drugs, to never do anything that didn’t have an off button.

I had the longest, hottest shower, tried really hard to come and, when I’d given up and was drying myself off, I sensed that someone else was awake. Socked feet and shuffled cutleries, the little sounds of someone doing lazy morning things.

I approached the kitchen but was struck shy. I could only stand at the entrance, my hand worrying the wall. It was Dan in his sleep shirt, oatmeal and rag-thin, covered by his green dressing gown, which I guess was comforting, rinsing dishes, crushing garlic, stirring mushrooms and flat-leaf parsley. His hands appeared old and muscly in the washy morning light; he looked for all the world like a resident of this home, taking intimate pleasure in the use of it.

‘Hi,’ I said.

He turned around.

‘Oh hi,’ he said.

A little worm of crystals was still snaking through my chest, catching on the edges and leaving little nicks.

‘How did you sleep?’ said Dan.

I ran up to him and hugged him.

‘I am very glad to see you. It was a strange night,’ I said.

‘Okay,’ he said. He patted my back. ‘Stop stroking my dressing gown.’

I had been doing this without thinking. It was so soft and expensive. ‘Wait a minute,’ I said. ‘I thought you had to give it back?’

‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Maybe. Who told you that?’

‘Chris L.’

‘We thought we should, but maybe not. It’s sort of optional.’

‘That’s good,’ I said.

‘Yeah!’ he said.

‘Can I have the car keys?’ I said.

‘What for?’

I stared at him.