"Did you watch Gossip Girl?" I say, searching for conversation.
"No time," says Emerz. "Reading Swann's Way, Davis translation. Paper on temporal disparity due Wednesday."
"Well, I'll fill you in," I say. "Picture the polished windows of a downtown high rise, a man in a three-button--"
"Let me call you right back," says Emerz. "I'm getting into an elevator."
First there is just the dead phone in my hand. And then a creeping dread. A sudden blast of lonesomeness surrounds me like a crop circle. No one will believe where it came from.
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