special capacity for pain. Rubbing isn’t helping. Laughing is. “Right,” I say. “I refuse to take responsibility for that one. The stair clearly moved. It’s not the tripping I mind; it’s the cheating.” Are you in shadow? Are you in pain? Next to you, is Hamlet a happy man? Has the rock been lifted, removing the sky, tearing your life in half? Do not cry to me. I can only cry with you. I will
