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section except to cover someone occasionally, but that the one time he saw the guy his impression was that he looked a little sad. I said, Almost everyone looks sad to me . The elevator man hadn’t seemed concerned about me before either, but he said the same thing Anna did, exactly, Maybe you should think about coming down . And I said, I’m fine, I’m not going to jump , and he said, What’s the difference, though , and I said, What? and he said again, What’s the difference . Like a sentence. He said, It’s like you jumped up .
    I didn’t really know what to say right then, but a little more time went by, and I have to say I wasn’t enjoying my luxury pad so much anymore. I wasn’t going to jump. But that thing he said stuck in my head like a burr, like that thing I heard about how A.A. really fucks up your drinking. I never got that before, I kept thinking, But you’re not supposed to drink in A.A . But when the elevator man said that thing about jumping up, not only did I have a very visual image of myself in some depressed superhero costume soaring up to the roof, I felt like I couldn’t really enjoy my little palace anymore. Plus I was still thinking he was so cute and that there was no chance he was going to want to settle down with me, or up, as he pointed out. A fog rolled in, quickly obliterating the skyline and everything else, and stayed for what seemed like a month; it would’ve come right into the terrarium if I’d left the door open. The elevator man still came up and hung out and washed my hair, but I was getting to the point where even though my hair felt clean, the rest of me didn’t, and I really wanted a shower, and I started having actual dreams about that dinner-plate-size showerhead down at Anna’s. Also I thought that the fog would go away sooner or later but it didn’t, and apparently I didn’t seal up those edges around the door frame so well after all, because the fog eventually crept inside, and after a while I couldn’t make out the letters on my keyboard, and then it got so thick I wasn’t 100 percent sure I was even there. Finally I found myself tiptoeing into the hallway by the Chihuahuas’ place, waiting by the elevator. I didn’t hear the Chihuahuas at all, but I didn’t know if that was because I was so quiet or if the lawsuit settled in favor of the prosecution. I’m not sure how long I was there, but I hadn’t had a chance to ring for the elevator before my elevator man opened the door and let the Chihuahua lady off (no Chihuahuas present, but another dirty look). He smiled at me, the elevator man. I think I’m just gonna go take a shower at Anna’s , I said.
    Cool , said the elevator man.

You Take Naps
    H E IS TOO YOUNG.
    You are Mrs. Robinson and Gloria Vanderbilt and Cher in the bagel-boy phase and that other singer who’s about eighty and in a wheelchair and has a thirty-year-old “beau” is what she calls him. Martha Raye.
    You are robbing the cradle.
    You look young for your age, but so does he. He looks like he’s in high school. You would look old in grad school.
    You have many common interests.
    You have several common interests.
    You have at least one significant interest in common that provides many hours of conversation.
    You have nothing in common.
    Over dinner, he says smart things. He seems interested in your opinion about smart things. You think, He’s so smart. He’s so smart and cute and nice. When he was born, you were a high school freshman. When he was born, you were a high school freshman . You think this twice. You think, When you were getting kissed for the first time, he was crawling. You follow this thought process through a few more developmental stages. You wonder when his birthday is. If his birthday is soon, you might only be 13½ years older than him. If his birthday is not soon, you could be as much as 14¾ years older than