Nope, it's the red one.

But this one looks like it is . . . and so does the red one, right... this one too. Geez, I seem to be seeing them all over.

He laughed feebly.

Gordon was very close to him now-holding the buttons of his jacket.

Kiddo, you've come to mean an awful lot to me these last few days. What do you think about us?

Well, I don't know, Gordon . . . I mean, what do you ... mean?

I mean... the two of us. We can be very good for each other.

He felt Gordon unbuttoning his jacket and felt the pressure of Gordon's thumb jabbing lightly into his waist.

No, Gordon, don't start anything like that. He wasn't sure he was in control of his voice.

Like what?

Like that.

Really?

Really.

Well then, you just better go

Very well then, he'd go

•

•

·

that's what I want and now you know it.

but he didn't want to leave. He did and he didn't. He had hurt Gordon . . . that he knew. Gordon stood immobile but for that twitch in his cheek that almost caused him to laugh. He couldn't help it... it did cause him to laugh . . . that funny twitch. He laughed lightly. What is it?

Nothing I... Gordon, can't we? I mean, let's be . . . just friends.

You silly

•

•

...

®

Gordon's arms were around him.

We're already friends.

•

He left the apartment late in the morning after Gordon had rushed around to get to his office by ten. He decided not to go into work, and about noon, he walked the long distance back to his place. He walked very slowly... looked in every shop window... saw scampering pups, unintelligible paintings, imperturbable manniquins saw a nude one-who even though abandoned for the lunch-hour, wouldn't lose her look of disdainful hauteur.

· . .

He called his supervisor and pretended an intense headache. He roamed around the apartment... slowly ate a sandwich. . . never really allowing himself to think .. neither about what he was doing and certainly not about what had happened. He just roamed around his apartment, aimlessly. He decided to write a letter to his mother, but then wasn't amused by the completely false picture it conveyed of his New York life. It was late that afternoon that the phone rang. He let it ring awhile, standing over it; finally he picked it up with the slowest of movements. Hello...

Where the hell were you?

I was just...

Haven't much time. Just want to tell you . . . I'm having some office people over tonight and would like to have you there. I'm going to show off the apartment. They're really great guys . . . and it'll be fun . . . O.K.?

He didn't answer right away.

O.K.?

Sure, love to.

Say, now what's wrong?

Nothing... I'm just feeling low cause I didn't get to work today.

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