There were three words that came to mind when he rested his back in the comfort of the guest bed that night. The pity, he felt for himself for having left without a good cause, and for having lost so much along the way. The more he thought about it, all the wealth his mind could entertain couldn’t shelter him from the loneliness. And being horny was just something that came and went like the morning, springing up and subsiding with the days dust. But there was something else about the need to feel as though a place existed, which might not have been a place at all. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he wanted to touch it and see if it was real. So he got up and went into the kitchen.