Ends and Odds

nothing, busied myself with nothing, that MINE, until the time came, with break of day

When she appeared it was always night.

B (irritated): But you don’t do it!
A: I’m not unhappy enough. (Pause.) That was always my unhap, unhappy, but not unhappy enough.

Then crouching there, in my little sanctum, in the dark, where none could see me, I began to beg, of her, to appear, to me. Such had long been my use and wont. No sound, a begging of the mind, to her, to appear, to me. Deep down into the dead of night, until I wearied, and ceased. Or of course until—