It’s nearly four AM, and I nearly overstayed my welcome, drinking absinthe with a friend and her father and someone I’m never quite sure about. Now it’s at least two hours later than I’d typically even consider staying up, and maybe one hour later than that for a weekend, but instead of just going to sleep I’m going to watch Howl’s Moving Castle for a bit. What do I have to do tomorrow, anyway, besides laundry? I can allow myself this, every so often. I thought I was stashing my bag in a safe place by the keyboard but now it’s a bit sticky with drink. And I said a lot of things tonight and I think most of them were true. Maybe even all of them—is that possible? Can you have a night like that—a night of only saying things you mean?