found, to my regret, that there is something that time will not help to pass, a reality which will always exist, like God, like time itself. It will never pass away but will grow deeper with every passing moment. The cigarette I was smoking was now down to its last few grains of tobacco. I put it out. The door bell is ringing. Who could it be? It is she! She has come back! She has realized that it was all a mistake.
âJust a minute. Iâm comingâ.
As I opened the door my visions of renewed joy change quickly to bewilderment. It is not she; it is two men. What are they doing here? What do they want? Where is she?
âAre you Tiempo Fugita?â they said.
âYes, I am. Can I help you gentlemen in any way?â
âPerhaps. Weâre from the police departmentâ, they said as they opened little leather folders with badges attached to them. âDid you know a girl named Madeleine Avery?â
âYes, of course I know her ⦠what do you mean did I know her? Is there anything wrong? Did something happen to Maddy?â
âThatâs what weâve come here for. Sheâs deadâ.
âDead? No, no, that couldnât be true, not Maddy. What happened?â
âShe was strangled to death. Were you with her today?â
âYes. I left her just a few hours ago. She was alright thenâ.
âYouâll have to come with us, Mr. Fugita. We have reason to believe that you killed her. A neighbor heard her scream and then saw you run out of the apartmentâ.
âMaddy dead? I did it? No, no, not Maddy. Not she. Not me. Oh, God, what have I done? I killed Maddy, the only person in the world I cared for? It canât be true. You must be kidding. Please say youâre kidding, pleaseâ.
âI wish we could, mister, but itâs true, sheâs dead. Will you come with us nowâ.
âThis canât be true. I couldnât have killed her. No this is all a mistakeâ.
Thatâs all right, keep calm, it canât last forever, whatever the outcome it is only a matter of time and things will be peaceful again â¦
âAll right, officers, Iâll come, just let me get my clothesâ.
Relax. Remember everything resolves itself in time ⦠patience ⦠Itâs only a matter of time, it canât last forever .
A GLASS OF WINE AND THOU
Soft, warm lazy eddies of air drifted irresolutely past the papers and books as they lay motionless on the desk, motionless save for the infrequent flutter of a paper edge momentarily lifted into life by the wind of the rotating fan, only to be dropped with equal swiftness back to the inertness that marked it before. The windows of the office were open, but their portals were untrespassed by invading air. No wind was stirring. Sun shafted down on the green metal roof of the next building, visibly lifting heat rays from its surface. The sounds in the office were somehow different today, so far away, so muffled, so incapable of intruding as on other days. Perhaps the heat stifled it, as it did the people who were working with an unusual, a low, methodical, almost funereal pace.
I was sitting behind my desk, slouched on the end of my spine, gazing fixedly at the quietness of a little corner, alone, aloof, impregnable, perhaps uninvaded since its construction. Had anyone ever poked into that small corner? How peaceful it must be to exist as a completely independent entity with no care in the world save the support of a wall.
A hard click-click of heels in the outside corridor shook me from my musing. The steps stopped outside and a knock resounded through the wooden door.
âCome inâ. It was Fran Wilson.
âHello, Jonathanâ.
âAny news?â I asked.
âNo, not yet. The doctor said it would take a couple of days moreâ.
âOkay, baby. Tell me as soon as you hear, will you? The suspense of it all is unnervingâ.
âDo you think Iâm enjoying this entire
âJust a minute. Iâm comingâ.
As I opened the door my visions of renewed joy change quickly to bewilderment. It is not she; it is two men. What are they doing here? What do they want? Where is she?
âAre you Tiempo Fugita?â they said.
âYes, I am. Can I help you gentlemen in any way?â
âPerhaps. Weâre from the police departmentâ, they said as they opened little leather folders with badges attached to them. âDid you know a girl named Madeleine Avery?â
âYes, of course I know her ⦠what do you mean did I know her? Is there anything wrong? Did something happen to Maddy?â
âThatâs what weâve come here for. Sheâs deadâ.
âDead? No, no, that couldnât be true, not Maddy. What happened?â
âShe was strangled to death. Were you with her today?â
âYes. I left her just a few hours ago. She was alright thenâ.
âYouâll have to come with us, Mr. Fugita. We have reason to believe that you killed her. A neighbor heard her scream and then saw you run out of the apartmentâ.
âMaddy dead? I did it? No, no, not Maddy. Not she. Not me. Oh, God, what have I done? I killed Maddy, the only person in the world I cared for? It canât be true. You must be kidding. Please say youâre kidding, pleaseâ.
âI wish we could, mister, but itâs true, sheâs dead. Will you come with us nowâ.
âThis canât be true. I couldnât have killed her. No this is all a mistakeâ.
Thatâs all right, keep calm, it canât last forever, whatever the outcome it is only a matter of time and things will be peaceful again â¦
âAll right, officers, Iâll come, just let me get my clothesâ.
Relax. Remember everything resolves itself in time ⦠patience ⦠Itâs only a matter of time, it canât last forever .
A GLASS OF WINE AND THOU
Soft, warm lazy eddies of air drifted irresolutely past the papers and books as they lay motionless on the desk, motionless save for the infrequent flutter of a paper edge momentarily lifted into life by the wind of the rotating fan, only to be dropped with equal swiftness back to the inertness that marked it before. The windows of the office were open, but their portals were untrespassed by invading air. No wind was stirring. Sun shafted down on the green metal roof of the next building, visibly lifting heat rays from its surface. The sounds in the office were somehow different today, so far away, so muffled, so incapable of intruding as on other days. Perhaps the heat stifled it, as it did the people who were working with an unusual, a low, methodical, almost funereal pace.
I was sitting behind my desk, slouched on the end of my spine, gazing fixedly at the quietness of a little corner, alone, aloof, impregnable, perhaps uninvaded since its construction. Had anyone ever poked into that small corner? How peaceful it must be to exist as a completely independent entity with no care in the world save the support of a wall.
A hard click-click of heels in the outside corridor shook me from my musing. The steps stopped outside and a knock resounded through the wooden door.
âCome inâ. It was Fran Wilson.
âHello, Jonathanâ.
âAny news?â I asked.
âNo, not yet. The doctor said it would take a couple of days moreâ.
âOkay, baby. Tell me as soon as you hear, will you? The suspense of it all is unnervingâ.
âDo you think Iâm enjoying this entire
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