Joe opened his eyes.

The first thing he thought about was one of those black psychiatrist chairs—he could see himself lying in one, explaining to the doctor about his problems. He thought that must be the logical conclusion to all of this.

While still lying in bed, not yet able to move, he wondered what he was going to do next. It was Friday, and he had work, but… that seemed out of the question. Not after how yesterday had gone. So he’d call in sick again. It seemed he’d be sick for the foreseeable future, the way things were going. He could envision this was how people lost their jobs. He wasn’t so much sailing off into the sunset as he was falling off a cliff.

He laid back in bed, sighing in agony, noting how the cruel trend had continued. The vixen from his dream always brought him so achingly close but never quite finished him off. Somehow Joe knew with absolute certainty that that was not a coincidence. It was fucking calculated. His hands swept across the situation down there, and it was more than a little ridiculous. He could take care of business by himself, and he most certainly would, there was no choice about that. But there was a big problem though. It didn’t really work. It didn’t really satisfy. It didn’t quench. He feared that it ultimately just made things worse—it exacerbated the issue. It was exacerbation. It was a more apt term. It only made him even more of a head-case than he already was.

Joe thought yet again about the black psychiatrist chair, wondering again if it really was his destination all along.

“God, I need help,” he muttered while climbing slowly to his feet. He heard the hustle and bustle of the morning rush outside. He walked slowly over to his desk, still wondering what he should do. Then he heard Jennifer’s whisper, as clearly as if she was in the room with him, I fell into the ebb, and he could see her downcast, defeated expression as she said it.

“No,” Joe said, angrily, rejecting this notion, even though he didn’t understand what it meant. While deep in thought, his eyes happened to fall upon his closet. “Of course,” he whispered, an excitement surging through him. He realized he should have dug it out much sooner.

He slid the closet door open and began searching through the mess of clothes that had accumulated there. He felt a moment of panic when he thought it wasn’t there, but then with great relief his hands located it within the mountain of junk.

It was an old shoebox full of little keepsakes.

He calmed, while opening it slowly, and carefully removing the contents. There were old ticket stubs from a few memorable concerts, a couple souvenirs from past vacations, and under it all, in its original envelope, was the letter she’d once slipped into his locker, so many years ago.

It had been awhile since he’d looked at it—years, even. With one glance at it, he could feel the power it had, and as the dust shook off a million old thoughts and feelings returned to him with an almost jarring nostalgia. Unfolding it slowly, he could see Jennifer’s flowery handwriting, and her loving, poetic words, so carefully chosen. It really was the nicest thing anyone had ever given him. He read it slowly, like it was an incantation. Eventually he folded the letter back up, doing so very carefully, like it was an artifact he needed to protect. But he didn’t return it to the shoebox. He left it out on the nightstand. Because he wanted to keep it within sight, like he could draw strength from it. It was a conduit, perhaps, one that gave him power. Whether that was true or not, it didn’t matter—because he believed in it. It was a link to her, which was what he needed.

After taking a shower and upon emerging from the steamy bathroom, his eyes went straight to the nightstand and to the letter sitting upon it, as though to make sure it was still there. It was.

After getting dressed, he thought about eating some breakfast, but that was a dubious prospect, he realized, while glancing at the kitchen cupboards, trying to remember the last time he’d gone to a grocery store. Scouring through them, he found some saltine crackers, one of the few remaining items in his kitchen that was readily edible. They were stale and overall it was a terrible breakfast, but that wasn’t the kind of thing that fazed him.

When he was done he folded up the letter again and put it in his pocket, along with his wallet and keys. He decided he would carry the letter around with him, as though it could help maintain his linkage with her. Even in the moment he knew it was an absurd thought, but he didn’t care. Life had become absurd. Maybe it always was.

Then he was quickly out the door.

He took the subway a couple stops and then walked the rest of the way to the National Mall. He hadn’t any objective in going there, other than that it simply felt right. His instincts guided him there, just as they had informed him to carry her letter in his pocket.

The streets were dotted with pedestrians, mostly tourists casually sauntering about. He crossed Constitution Avenue and entered onto the sun-splashed pathways. It was still early enough so the really intense heat of the day had not yet kicked in. He felt like a strange outlier, as he walked among the tourists and joggers, around the monuments and concessions, his objective so strange and so different from anyone around him. He even tried to replicate the path he had walked with Jennifer, on that wonderful day they’d shared so many years ago. As he went, his hand often felt for her letter inside of his pocket, as though making sure it hadn’t gone anywhere. At some point the desperation of his walk reached a whole new level, as he realized he actually was looking for her. It was silly, and irrational, but he just couldn’t help it. The sidewalks and the paths flowed with endless streams of strangers, and he couldn’t help scanning through them as he went along. Sometimes he’d catch a partial glimpse of a woman passing to one side, or perhaps glancing out the window of a passing car, and she might have that same radiant blonde hair. Each time Joe felt a rising sense of awe, but it would quickly dissipate after checking more closely and seeing it was someone else.

Of course it was.

His walk ended at its logical conclusion, on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. He found the exact spot they’d once shared, on those steps, and his desperate hopes for a miracle fell away when he saw it was empty—she was not there. Joe sat in that spot anyway, resting, and scanning the buzzing crowd around him. He held her letter again, while sitting on those steps. It almost felt like he was trying to summon her. He vacillated several times between thinking that he was doing the right thing, to feeling that he had truly become a lunatic, and this was the absolute, damning confirmation.

Eventually, his mind drifted back to that day in Atlantic City. The beach, the boardwalk, the carnival, and the encounters he’d had there. Could it have really been Jennifer? He wondered. Sanity and rationality said no, but everything else said yes. He exhaled, as old carnival music played in his mind, an ocean breeze ran through his hair, and the air felt salty on his tongue. What a day that had been. Mundane, at least upon description, but to Joe, it was anything but. Within the span of about thirty minutes, he’d fallen in love with one girl, while another had ushered him into puberty, more or less. At 12 years of age, that process had already begun, but she put it on the fast track, that was for sure. She set the burner on high. And that pretty much set the tone for how the rest of his life was going to go. It didn’t seem to be letting up at all.

The sun was high overhead and the heat had become thick and choking when Joe finally gave up, departing from the Mall and then ambling dejectedly up into the city on 23rd Street where he vanished down into a metro station. While standing on the platform waiting for the train, he checked the time and thought that Capital Libations was probably open by then. He swore to himself that he wouldn’t start drinking yet, but rather, he still had important business there to attend to. After all, yesterday he didn’t really search the place as well as he could have. As well as he should have.

After a short train ride and a quick walk, he strode into the establishment, very grateful for the blast of air conditioning to greet him. In the early afternoon the place was very quiet—there was no hostess, and the only staff he could see was Steve, the same bartender from the other night. Joe felt a ray of hope upon seeing him.

“Steve, hey, how are you?” Joe asked.

“Hey, dude,” he said. “You’re here early.” His neck beard was as glaring as ever.

“Yeah, I know. I’m looking for something. Do you remember I was in here the other night, and I was messing around with that crystal ball?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, I remember. You were pretty wasted.”

“Do you remember what happened to that thing? Did I leave it in here?”

Steve’s face was searching for a few moments, and then came up empty. “I really have no idea. I never saw it after you left. You must have taken it with you. What the hell is that thing, anyway?”

Joe felt a flash of frustration. “It’s hard to explain. Do you mind if I look around for it?”

Steve shrugged. “Be my guest.”

Joe searched all around the bar first, especially in the area behind it, in the cabinets, even in the wells. He tried the Lost and Found again.

It all came up empty.

His search went faster than he thought it would, and afterwards he didn’t know what to do. He stood there with a vacant, defeated look in his eyes. Then his phone rang. He answered it, seeing it was from Nick.

“Hey.”

“Joe… dude. We’re meeting at Dave’s place.”

Joe sighed, realizing it was Friday night. Despite everything, it had arrived, and his friends were all going out partying. His mind worked desperately, wondering if he should avoid it, and if so, what was a workable excuse.

“Way out in Arlington?” he asked, delaying.

“Yes. C’mon, you’re joining us. Like I said, there’s a bunch of us going out. Dave’s got couches if you can’t make it back, and a guest bed too, I think. I’ll probably crash there. We can split a ride tomorrow to get back into the city.”

Joe contemplated, his expression conflicted. The thought of being in that atmosphere, with his buddies, with the laughter, the alcohol… to just finally let loose, and be idle for a while. He practically salivated thinking about it.

“Get your ass over to Dave’s,” Nick added, sensing Joe’s hesitance. “I’ll be there early, probably around six. We’ll be pre-gaming it for a while, I’m sure. You’ve no excuse not to join us. Even if you are still banging your intern, or whoever this chick is.”

“She’s not my intern.”

“Fuck it, even if she is, bring her out with you. You said she parties. We all wanna meet her. Alright, Joe. I’ll see you over there.”

“Alright, man. Later.”

Joe hung up and couldn’t contain his grin. It was such a delightful intrusion of normalcy.

“Fuck it,” Joe whispered. “I’ll go insane if I don’t go.”