'When?'
'How the fuck do I know? I don't know. Saturday night.'
'That wasn't me,' I said, having had cause to use this line before: 'that was my twin brother. Tell me all about it.'
Bleakly he shook his head. I offered him a twenty but he wouldn't tell me more.
'I'm John — he's Eric,' I explained.
'You? A twin brother?' he said, and moved away from me down the bar. 'There's only one of you, pal. One of you will about do it.'
... Martina stirred by my side. Our silent meeting was at an end. She stood up, then leaned forward to free a splinter from her dress. She looked at me with her long eyes. And nothing happened. Why should something always be happening? Why should it? We touched hands and exchanged words of parting. I watched her walk down the steps to the sidewalk of Fort
Table of Contents