But by the time the autumn came things changed: I would wake in the morning and lie there thinking about sex. I began to masturbate again and fantasize about men. I was aware of a new student in the last class I taught every evening, how he listened to me and watched me. I found that I was thinking about him when I woke in the morning. Sometimes, I would come out of the building and find a group of students outside the door, talking and laughing. I would notice his eyes on me and I would nod and smile and make my way toward home. I do not imagine that any of them realized that I was walking back to an empty apartment and I would spend the rest of the evening sitting in an old armchair in the hallway staring at the window. I tried to appear competent and in control.

On one of those evenings as I walked home I turned into Lavalle and noticed a figure watching me from the kiosk on the corner. It was just a moment, a flash of eyes, and the contact was made. It had been almost a year since I had done anything like this. I was wary, and because I was wary I was excited. I walked slowly away from him and then I turned and looked and he was standing still. He had brown hair and light skin; he was in his twenties. I examined woollen sweaters in a shop window. When he approached, we spoke. He said he was living with his family; I told him that I was living with my family as well. We stood there wondering what we were going to do. It was only when I realized that he might walk away that I said my apartment was empty, there was no one there. Was I sure, he asked, that my family would not return? I told him I was sure. I told him I lived just around the corner. He gave me a look as if to say that this was touch-and-go, he was making up his mind, but he would come home with me despite his suspicions. Then he walked along with me to the apartment building, and we went up the stairs and I opened the door of the apartment as though I owned the place.