“So I got filled up with this powerful poem,” Janine said. “And I talked too much in class, which embarrassed me, and I was almost going to lie down during lunch but something made me go into the dining hall.”

“Not the food, I imagine.” Marianne was about to apologize when Janine continued, urgently.

“So I went into the dining hall and I sat with these two ladies, from workshop, Maggie and Lilian. They hadn’t talked much in class and I was afraid they’d think I was hogging the conversation, or showing off. But I sat down and they told me these horrible stories.” In the dimming light Marianne could see Janine frowning, as if remembering the stories pained her. She lowered her voice. “About divorce. And I felt so bad for both of them. And then Lilian left and Maggie told me something that just shook me to my core.”

She sat back, as if satisfied and exhausted to have said this much.

“What was it?” Marianne asked. “Do I want to know?”

“Her husband,” said Janine, “who is a cheater—he was also one of Terri’s doctors. He consulted on her case. I went to the computer room and I looked him up. He wrote a report that said they should stop feeding her. He testified to that, in one of the court cases.”

Marianne could see Janine closing her eyes. She tried to think what she should say—it was like trying to do something delicate while looking into a mirror: you had to remember that everything was backwards. You had to go slowly. She didn’t say anything.

“I have nothing against Lilian,” Janine said. “It wasn’t her. But what are the chances that I would meet her here, and she would tell me a story like she told me?”

“Very small,” guessed Marianne.

“I think so,” Janine said. “I thought at first, I have to take these poems out of workshop. I even went to Ms. Kominski’s room and I was about to knock on the door, but then I thought, why? Lilian is obviously parting ways with her husband, but even if she wasn’t—even if she thought he was God—which apparently he thought he was—even then, why should I not write what I came here to write? The state of the world calls out for poetry to save it,” she recited. “That’s what today taught me. That’s what I think now.”

“Civilization self-destructs,” Marianne said. It was nearly dark now. “Nemesis is knocking at the door.”

“Yes,” Janine said. “Yes.”