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– But you were always with us.
He is saying
In my hand is the inevitable cup of pure, black coffee
Or straight alcohol
Or tea
I’m staring at it
Or at my palm
I can’t join it all with the ‘and’ that usually adds to the idea
It is definitely one or the other
Perhaps it changes
But never more than one at a time
It is in this case, not abstract
– I’ve watched you come and go countless times, but when you go, you don’t go.
I respond
Is that like saying you don’t know him, but you know him?
– Something like that.
This is the straightest conversation we’ve had in a long time
– Something always fills that pragmatic hole. Even me.
And when I look at him, I wonder why he was named Horror
– You didn’t name me.
I don’t know whether I named him
The sense of possession is even more vague than usual
Actually, it’s gone altogether
– Not necessarily.
I look up from the cup again to him
Raise my eyebrows
This thing, if anything, I own
The dialect of the eyebrows
The skin at the corners of the eye
– I would say that I am in possession of you.
I suppose
It doesn’t seem important
– Of-course. It isn’t important. Not to you.
Blink
Lift the cup
Drink
I still don’t know what it is
The lack of being able to discern taste, smell and temperature briefly reminds me of being ill
– But it’s important to us. Because we are in possession of you. I think all of us.
Even the man?
– It’s one of those things, I think you’re guessing correctly. Both more simple and more complex than you imagine.
There’s something holistic about that
In accepting that the parameters are greater than my own capacity
And in the acknowledgement, the embrasure, there comes understanding
But I don’t pursue it
Because here, I don’t pursue anything
– Is that why you wrote what you did?
Yes
It is
And why it was necessary that this conversation happen at the same time
– Or just after.
No-one will know
I wonder whether I’ll tell anyone
The conversation goes for some time after that
I don’t recall where it went
Or what else was said