It was a beautiful day, rainy-gray, foggy, dismal, perfect. I was so happy because there was nothing to do and nowhere to go and no one to meet, and never in my life had I felt so empty and so full. I wanted to sneeze or to cum. I wanted to die. I wanted a drink, though I hadn’t had a drink in seventeen years. But I didn’t really want a drink. I just wanted to climb a tree that no longer stood where it stood and hide up there all alone in the top branches and look down at a world that no longer looked like it looked. Do you know what I mean? I mean the smell of the rain before the rain or after the rain as opposed to the rain itself. I walked up and down the wet streets, looking at all the houses that I would never set foot in. So easy to love them, the shapes of those lives inside, their windows like the dark eyes of beautiful young girls who are too young and too beautiful, as forbidden and faraway and impossible as life on Mars. All the newspapers on Earth clamoring: Life on Mars!