The fridge was empty but in a cabinet above the sink he found a tin of meat soup. He cradled it in the crook of his arm, wiggled his finger into the little metal loop and pulled the lid enough to fold it back. He scarfed it all down in two gulps, grinding the stringy bits of meat up between his teeth.

The bed was wide and had a tall headboard with turned bedposts. He lay on the side of the mattress that was not dark with dried-in bodily fluids. His eyes roved sleepily across the room. A white table fan. Stacks of CDs. An empty aquarium with grimy sides. A terrarium, actually. The heat lamp was stashed inside. A wood stove that wasn’t connected to a chimney. His chest moved slowly up and down and the air generated one strange noise after the other on its rattling way to and from his lungs.

*

A chirping woman’s voice. From inside the house. Ipa popped her head through the door. She patted a bag that was slung across her shoulder.

‘I figured we should tend to that wound.’

Lennart grunted.

‘Let’s do it here,’ she said.

‘Fine.’

‘Sit up.’

‘You want me to sit up?’

‘Yes, sit up.’

She got down on her knees and unwound the bandage from his arm, humming a song as she did. What emerged looked like a wet pork shank, but it didn’t seem to revolt or even surprise her. She studied the weeping wounds meticulously and even sniffed them with her little nose.

‘Did someone bite you?’

He said nothing.

‘Let’s hope it doesn’t get infected.’

‘It won’t.’

A hand reached up and felt his forehead.

‘A bit hot.’

‘I just need some sleep.’

‘And what are we going to do about this?’

She pursed her lips thoughtfully.

‘Just wrap it back up. The main thing is to keep it from making a mess and me from getting at it and opening it up again.’

‘I don’t suppose there’s any point sewing it up.’

‘No. There isn’t.’

She took out a compress and a roll of gauze from her bag; he studied her face while she wrapped the gauze around his arm. It was like a starry night sky of moles and tiny birthmarks.

‘All right then,’ she said, ‘what’s it going to be tonight, are you staying in, watching the telly?’

He said nothing.

‘You don’t watch TV?’

‘Sometimes.’

‘What do you watch then, do you have a favourite show?’

He shook his head.

‘I watch whatever’s good.’

His answer made her smile.

‘Would you like something for your fever?’

‘No. I just need to sleep.’

She gathered up the last of the gauze, put it in a plastic bag, stood up and watched him as he lay back down. As though that was something that required supervision. Then she left, without closing any of the doors behind her.