Then I left, closed the door behind me and leaned on it for a moment with a deep sigh, wondering why the world had to be such a mess. Well, that was exhausting. And now I seemed to have entangled myself in an obligation I didn't have the least idea how to discharge. That, at least, could wait until I got home before I worried about it. Then
    Okay she actually went and talked to him I can't believe she actually did that I hope it works he desperately needs to get out of here oh my she's better looking than I thought she looks like oh she knows I'm here I've got to—
    It stopped.
    I assumed I had just encountered Valerie.
    "Hello?" I said cautiously, shaking my head a little. It hadn't hurt, or felt physically uncomfortable in any way. Just... strange.
    "Hi," a soft voice said from the darkness ahead.
    "It's okay," I told her, though I have to admit I found the experience I had just had more than a little disconcerting.
    "You're Needle."
    "Yeah," I admitted. Her voice was creaky with disuse. It might have been weeks or months since she had spoken to anyone. "You must be Valerie."
    "Yes."
    Her voice was coming from the shadow of a circular stairway leading up to her turret, where she must have been pressed against the stairs, looking away.
    "It's okay, you just kind of startled me," I said.
    "Sorry."
    "I didn't even actually catch anything," I assured her. The thoughts had been, literally, stream of consciousness, hard to pick out any individual threads.
    "Are you...." She stopped.
    "Yes?" I prompted after a moment. This was turning out to be a really strange evening.
    "Can I, um, look at you?"
    I admit I hesitated. "Yes." I braced myself mentally. She turned the corner. I'm not sure what I had been expecting; the madwoman in the attic, maybe? She's fairly young. Taller than I am, and has a solid, slightly plump build, dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt. Her face and hair, in sharp contrast, were meticulously made up; her fingernails were painted.
    The picture she presented was sad—that's not the right word. Tragic. I had a hard time keeping track of the thought, since my own were drowned in her surprise that I was letting her do this, her hopes for results from my conversation with Steven, her uncertainty, her intentness as she walked toward me, fixing everything in her memory. It was a profoundly embarrassing sort of intimacy, knowing things I had no earthly right to know were taking place in her mind. I tried doing quadratic equations to distract myself from her thoughts.
    I haven't seen a new face in so long. Over and over again.
    When she was within three feet she stopped. Reached out a hand.
    I don't like being touched under any circumstances, and she must have picked up on that, but it would have been criminally selfish of me to give in to the impulse to back away when she touched my face. I managed to remain still, to hold her eyes.
    "I know, I'm sorry, sorry, it's just I haven't... seen a face in so long. I haven't seen a face in so long," she repeated.
    "It's all right," I told her gently. I felt like I'd slid into a different universe, that reality was on hold, in some sense. "I'll live."
    "You're Asian, aren't you?"
    She is she is partially anyway.
    "I think so."
    Her guess was as good as mine on that score.
    There's so many people she could be so many people I just can't see....
    She backed away again, evidently a bit flustered. "It's okay," I repeated uncertainly. There was an overwhelming sense of gratitude in her thoughts; she was almost crying. Under the deluge, I couldn't really think about how I was reacting to this, mainly aware of how much courage it had taken for her to venture down the stairs at all.
    She can't ever really go out in public, I guess. It probably embarrasses everyone else in the house, sometimes, though I know the others care about her. And no one could live... in this, all the time. But at the same time, I can't help but think—it wasn't that bad, from my end. And if something that small made her so happy....
    She turned the corner.
    "Thank you," she whispered.
    "You're welcome." A creak. "Nice meeting you."
    I shook my head and went downstairs. Lisa and Marshall were hovering.
    "Hello again," I said. I decided not to mention my chat with Valerie.
    "Hi. How'd the talk with Steven go?" Lisa inquired brightly.
    "I think it went pretty well. I'll check around in Boston and see if I can do anything. I don't know."
    "Thank you."
    "I mean, I don't want to promise anything...."
    "No, no, but... he needs to be not here."
    "I got the impression that he's feeling rather restless," I understated.
    "Really?" she replied dryly. "He's been here for two years. He's a great kid, a great guy, when he's not bitter and angry and frustrated."
    "Well, it's not easy...."
    "But I was twenty-one once, too. I think we all were."
    "Yeah." More or less. Twenty-one. I wondered what Travis was up to, put that out of my mind right quick.
    "Thank you for coming over," she said gently.
    "It's been a most interesting occasion," was my sincere reply. "Thank you for the invitation."
    "You probably won't be in the area much longer, or just for the week?"
    "Just 'til the end of the week. Just tomorrow, I guess," I realized, a bit startled. Time had certainly flown.
    "Heading back to Boston, then?"
    "Heading out west to visit some friends, then back home."
    "Well, here." She handed me a business card.
    "Thank you."
    "If you want to write, call...."
    "I will."
    "And maybe next time you have some time off we could arrange, we have a collapsible screen, we could have an old movie fest, or something."
    "Sounds fantastic," I said with a smile.
    "I don't know if you have a certain someone to bring along, or not...."
    "Not at the moment," was my dry reply. Not in this lifetime, I don't think.

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