Why'd I take my damp clothes off in the kitchen when I got home tonight, tucking sox into boots, using my hand for a foot, jeans over sox, shirt into jeans, laying them out on the floor as if whoever'd been there lying supine had simply disappeared, Exhibit A for Sarah to find before grinding the coffee to assemble the morning, a missing man like in the movie I just saw--The Perfect Storm--who got in over his head and... dissolved?