‘I don’t really have a choice,’ I said. ‘I’m not going to leave Brunswick.’

‘I know you aren’t,’ he said.

‘He is the best available option.’

What would me and Dan be now, without the shared address? He wasn’t like a normal friend. He was something different. Would I even have this friendship without the symptoms of it? If it was undetectable, what even was it? The only thing we live with is the spectacle of hours, the certainty that everything can not be what it seems – not space, not air, not blood, not skin, not friendship, and not difference – but what it seems? That’s the only thing it isn’t.

He put his arms around me, encircling without touching, and then he stood up and then he left.

I breathed.

‘Wait,’ Dan said.

He re-emerged onto the balcony.

‘I do have one regret, actually. Do you trust me?’

I rolled my eyes. ‘Of course I do,’ I said.

‘Then give me your phone.’

I frowned at Dan.

‘No, give me your phone,’ he said.

I did so.

‘Unlock it.’

I took it, entered my PIN, and handed the phone back to him.

‘Give me a second.’ He seemed very excited, even giddy, and I’d learned to be afraid of him in this impassioned state. He could be wicked, very punishing – dealing out justice, a selfish angel, solving only problems that happened to impact him.

‘Do I have to leave the balcony?’ I said.

‘No, that’s okay,’ he said, and stepped inside and huddled over the phone, concealing his actions.

‘I’m finished,’ he said.

I stepped inside.

He gave the phone back.

‘What did you do?’ I asked him.

‘I’m not telling,’ he said.

I went to say something else but he raised his hand to stop me.

‘Please don’t ruin this. Love you,’ he said.

He ran down the stairs, leaving those mad syllables hanging.

The longest night! I quaked and moaned. What would daylight bring me – the unseen hand, the lick of fate, the natural conclusion?

I pored through my phone, of course, but Dan had erased his workings; if he’d sent a text message, he’d covered his tracks; if he’d deleted a phone number, I didn’t miss it. I paid special attention to the Richmond Man’s text thread, because what if my best and ugliest fantasy was real: that he’d vanquished the stranger, told him not to move in, because he’d discovered Brunswick was ‘not finished with him yet’ – whether that meant something terrible or lovely.

So Dan came back to Brunswick . . . he and Lachlan were cool . . . they were happiest with distance . . . my presence was key. There was no end to my fantasies. I knew they were unsupportable.

In the morning, I made my coffee and sat at the table, preparing myself for disappointment and triumph.