My Melbourne friends were doing the same—waking to children, lunching later with family, one would picnic in the country with her new lover. That each was fond of me there was no doubt. If they thought of me they would pick up the phone, invite me to join them, or plan to drop by later. But I was not in their thoughts. On that Sunday morning, the sun on the pillow beside me, I let that truth soak in and I fell through the net.
