I might have slept all night except the sky was too dark and I was scared and I just wanted to go down again. I had a sudden craving for a milk shake. Ming’s, I thought, I’ll walk in there, and say, really casually, Hey, Ming, where’s Justine? He seemed like a nice guy. He’d probably give me her new address.

Only when I climbed down from the final roof, I wasn’t near Chinatown at all. I didn’t have a fucking clue where I was. Warehouses rose up off sloping hills and railroad tracks lay like black iron welts in the wet grass.

I crossed the street so I was closer to the water’s edge.

That’s when I saw her.

A skinny girl, knock-kneed and slanting, as if she was being drawn down by the weight of the suitcase in her left hand. She wore a man’s blazer and the same torn skirt. Suddenly I realized that we were exchanging a smile. There wasn’t anything welcoming about her smile: it was just a quick flicker of recognition.

I stopped and faced her. She stopped too and tilted her head, smiling. But what could I say? What should I do?

Justine, I finally said, in a wan and timid voice.

It was too late; she had already turned away. She headed down a slope I’d never noticed before. The hill led down to the docks and it was ragged with reeds. By the time I’d crossed the street, she was gone. The water down there was black and smelled like gasoline.

Reeds scratched across my face as I stumbled back up the hill, slipping in the damp mud.

When I was on the street, I looked around me but saw no one at all. A streetlight turned on and the black water shone.

Le Gardin: I swear that’s what the place was called. Spelled incorrectly, that’s not my mistake. I went in there, thinking it would be a seed factory, and instead it turned out to be this brand-new fancy restaurant with chandeliers. I managed to sneak by the poncy man in a tuxedo who was folding white napkins into birds.

In the immaculate bathroom, I drank cold water straight from the faucet.

There were no customers in Le Gardin, so I thought no one would care if I crashed on the bathroom floor. I wasn’t feeling so great. It felt as if flames were burning a long line up through my spine. I needed sleep. I hadn’t slept in two days. I hadn’t eaten since my father’s last meal. No wonder I was getting all delusional. She was a mirage, I was sure. You know how desert heat makes wanderers imagine an oasis? The skinny girl was my mirage, a vision from this heat.

I turned the tap on so the water would overflow and cover me as I slept.