My quietness perhaps lets everyone know that my fiancé is gone away for a palpable length of time. He told me that yesterday he had occasion to be naked outside. I picture him with the sunburn he says he has on his shoulders, washing his clothes in the river next to which he is camped. It’s a pleasant thought, better than the mud-spattered reality of my Pacific Northwest. Unfortunately, he represents a trend.

People are leaving in droves. Dave Hood, also, is on his sabbatical, drinking somewhere on the east coast, we think. Monish, the guy who until yesterday lived with me and until last week worked for the same company I do, left last night for, well, ever, as far as anyone knows. His only immediate plans are New York.

But it’s next month that gapes even more like a black hole of missing comrades.

I’ll lose Brett, Kes, Aileen to Europe, which is where fiancé David also migrates. Even Leslie, the wonderful girl who helps me with letterpress printing, will be gone. I expect to experience a lot of silence in June. Please bother me. I need it.