What was I saying? From far away as in a delirium. I heard my own voice calling someone Dorothy. Talking of dress shops sub jobs. The words came clearer. The sound of my own voice frightened me as it came closer and suddenly there I was talking of not what to someone I'd never seen before this very moment. Abruptly, stop speaking. Where was I? I'd wake up in strange rooms before fully dressed on a bed or couch I'd wake up in my own room in or on my own bed not knowing what are our day was afraid to ask. But this was different. This time I seem to be already awake sitting upright in a big easy chair in the middle of an animated conversation with a perfectly strange young woman who didn't appear to think it strange. She was chatting on pleasantly uncomfortably. Terrified I looked around I was in a large dark, rather poorly furnished room the living room of a basement flat. Cold chills started chasing up and down my spine. My teeth were chattering my hands were shaking. So I took them under me to keep them from flying away. My fright was real enough but it didn't account for these violent reactions. I knew what they were. Right a drink would fix them. It must have been a long time since I had my last drink. But I didn't dare ask the stranger for one I must get out of here. In any case in any case I must get out of here before I let slip my abysmal ignorance of how I came to be here and she realized that I was stark staring mad I was mad I must be. The shakes grew worse and I looked at my watch six o'clock. It had been one o'clock when I last remembered looking. I'd been sitting comfortably in a restaurant with Rita drinking my sixth Martinian hoping the waiter would forget about the lunch order at least long enough for me to have a couple more, I'd only had two with her but I, managed four in the fifteen minutes I'd waited for her, and of course, I'd had the usual unaccounted swigs from the bottle as I painfully got up and did my slow spasmodic dressing. In fact, I have been in very good shape at one o'clock feeling no pain what could have happened. That had been in the center of New York on noisy forty second street. This was obviously a quiet residential section. Why had dorothy brought me here who was she? How I had? I met her I had no answers and I dared not ask she gave no sign of recognizing anything wrong. But what had I been doing for those lost five hours my brain world I might have done terrible things and I wouldn't even know it. Somehow I got out of there and walked five blocks pass brownstone houses. There wasn't a bar in sight, but I found the subway station, the name on it was unfamiliar and I had to ask the way grand central. It took three quarters of an hour and two changes to get their backed my starting point. I had been in the remote reaches of Brooklyn. That night I got very drunk which was usual but I remembered everything which was very unusual. I remembered going through what my sister assured. Me was my nightly procedure of trying to find. Willie, Seabrook's name in the telephone book. I remembered my allow resolution to find him and ask him to help me get into that asylum he had written about. I remembered asserting that I was going to do something about this that I couldn't go on. Remembered looking longingly at the window as an easier solution and shuddering at the memory of that other window three years before and the six agonizing months in a London. Hospital. Ward. I remember filling the peroxide bottle in my medicine chest with Jin. In case my sister found the bottle I hid under the mattress.

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