A simple smile, X tells me, an act of kindness, you know yourself what that can do to you, especially in this town. So why don’t you give it to me? What’s wrong with you? he says. Is it me? It’s me, isn’t it? Why don’t you answer? You don’t have it to give, do you? Only to others, but that’s a lie, isn’t it, if you can’t even give it to me? Your dead eyes give you away, he says. A million lifetimes… Who do we talk to about this? Do we even care? Let’s get a few bottles and have a quiet night in, he tells me, maybe a takeaway.
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