Well, then, what's the plan now? You can't stay here forever.'

My plan was indeed to stay there forever.

I asked to use the bathroom and sat, recovering, on the edge of a marble bath on a dais—the kind Greek husbands are slain in.

Waking in the morning, I had to remember grief all over again. It was sunny, a white winter sun, and that made me sad.

When he wasn't making quirky jokes about his mother like this—it happened more than once—he mainly spoke at me, about his job and about his band, Jettisoned Airplane, an electronic music duo, which had been formed in March, inspired by the plane that had gone missing and not yet been found.

I don't know, I can't know, but I almost did.

But I do not know the people I am crying for anymore. I don't let myself sympathise—I think it would be wrong.