I once knew a girl who —
sat apart at the party, down on the floor. A small almost-woman in a large blue overcoat, the kind sailors wear. She cringed within its folds. I sat beside her on a sudden kindly impulse. I offered my roach in its glittery skull holder. I was drowsed and calmhearted, gladly aware of all the patterns of laughter and the brittle flowering colour of the carpet. I wasn’t upset when she refused the smoke.
‘Don’t like it?’
‘Don’t smoke or drink,’ she said dully.