I needed some fresh air. I put the book down and went out onto the balcony. The three-quarters-full moon was like the face of someone turning over their shoulder to look. There was a story I'd read once, about this guy who tried to rescue his girlfriend from Hell, but he wasn't allowed to look behind him the whole way back – but you know what those stories are like, people always do what they're not meant to – so he looked back of course, and she died again. Pretty retarded. But the moon reminded me of it. The stars were out. A big black cloud was drifting alone across the sky like a ship. I could see a light gleaming in a window in a faraway cottage on the painted hills. I imagined someone was there, watching me across the fields.
I wondered where the Cripple and his Dogs went at night. Did the Cripple take them back to his apartment? Did all the dogs get up on the bed and lay around him like cushions? Or did they just wander around the city all night long?
Do ghosts sleep?