what happened to the bike. A red one, second-hand, that he rode everywhere from 1982 to 1984 and that was the single most important object in his life.
And he laughed until he had to stop and get his breath, and then he said: “I sold it in the September of 1985. For a pram.”
And there it was. The whole of it, in one sentence, and neither of us had to do anything else with it.
And then he said: “Ask a proper one.”
And I said no. And I put my head down on the bed next to his hand, and he put his hand on my hair, and we did not talk for about twenty minutes.
That is the four days. It was not a reunion. It was two people of sixty being nineteen for a bit, in a room with a machine in it.
What I
