in case of emergency, pt. 2

Her apartment was easy enough to find, and there was an elevator right to her floor. I laid her down on the couch and turned the light on. "Is it all right if I look at your hand?"

"If you want."

There was broken glass in the palm of her hand. I did my best to remove it, then wrapped up her hand with a cloth she insisted it was okay for me to use. She didn't seem to notice. I helped her to bed, and she fell asleep almost immediately. Her apartment--such as it was--was filled with little sculptures, including several glass sculptures.

I didn't think to ask about her, though sometimes I wondered if she was okay. I stopped seeing the girl, and mostly lost touch with that circle. Then one day Clara was on my doorstep, sober and smiling wryly.

I said, "Um, hi."

"Hey there," she said. "Who the fuck are you?"