I was living in a seaside town where the rent was cut to nothing during the off-season. I had a good part-time job delivering propane tanks. The tanks were heavy and I enjoyed the physical work. The truck was old and had character; I grew to expect its misfirings and to enjoy the low warble of its engine. I liked the people I saw on my job. They were busy hanging wash or shaving with cold water since their gas had run out, and they were always pleased to see me. I had much time to think about my life. Mostly, I thought about a woman. I saw how the end of an affair is an end to the suspension of disbelief, a lot like the close of a circus act when we see the sword swallower collect his array of knives. The lights go up and we see the nets and wires which we had not noticed before. The tent is dismantled, fluttering down, like the huge dusty petals of an inverted flower. For the past few years I had been studying medicine, but I was dependent on financial aid, which had become increasingly difficult to arrange, and I decided on a year away from the university.
