One afternoon, during the start of Bobby’s second year in Attica, he sliced open his wrists with the sharp and jagged lid of a Camp-bell’s soup can. He found the empty can while working in the prison kitchen. Bobby was rushed to a hospital in the city of Attica. Eventually the warden announced that the fat Jew had died. This news made a great many of the inmates sad. They wouldn’t have the toothless motherfucker’s mouth to suck their cocks anymore. Or his plump ass to butt-fuck.

Or his big ears to hold on to.

Sixty-one-year-old Vera Bundle was last seen standing on the corner of Fifty-ninth Street and Sixth Avenue thinking she might cry. That nice colored man at the hotel, Mr. Figgus, told Vera not to go out, but she wouldn’t listen to him. I should have, she told herself. Vera Bundle even forgot what the purpose of her walk was. Just to spite that nice colored man, most likely. Stupid, stupid, stupid, she thought. Anyway, what’s the big deal? We get snowstorms in Steubenville.

She ordered herself to get a grip. But then a particularly vicious gust of wind almost blew her over. It also blew away any hope of getting a grip. Shaking her head, Vera muttered to herself aloud, “I think you better get moving.”

But where to? she asked herself.

Back to the hotel, that’s where, she answered herself.

So the elderly tourist pulled her head into her shoulders as far as it would go, pointed her nose into the blustery wind, and began walking (hopefully) toward Eighth Avenue. But she was all mixed up and didn’t get very far. The icy cold, the wind, and the snow were becoming too much for her to handle. And apparently for other people too. The pedestrians had thinned out. There was almost no one walking anywhere on the sidewalks. Just the occasional automobile or taxi went by.

What I could use is a strong cup of tea, thought Vera. Or better yet, a cup of tea with a double shot of scotch in it. Why not? I’m on vacation, aren’t I? On second thought, the hell with the tea. A good stiff drink is what I need. A good stiff drink would be good for what ails me. I’ll have that drink as soon as I get back to my hotel. But then Vera quickly changed her mind. Why wait? she decided. The change of heart was helped immeasurably by the simple fact that she was standing in front of a place called the Essex House Hotel & Bar.

“Hotel and bar. How fortuitous,” she said to herself, perking up a smidge. “Absolutely fortuitous.”

Vera turned and walked through the revolving doors and entered the hotel’s lobby. Almost immediately Vera Bundle went from being lonely and bummed out to feeling almost happy. For one thing, the lobby of the Essex House was warm. For another, people were bustling about doing things. Vera didn’t feel alone anymore. She took off her coat, stuffed her scarf into one sleeve and the wool hat into a coat pocket, threw the coat over her arm, and looked around for the bar. She noticed the entrance to what looked like a restaurant or bar to her left. The place was called Journeys.