THE SADDEST GIRL SINCE THE SONG DYNASTY

THE SUN ALSO SETS - PART II

He had on the way been daubed with shade by a fellow subway rider, Ander explained, because she had said something that might otherwise have not seemed directly offensive, in this case, "Where did you find that hat?" but which hid insult and hostility. The hat, a classic beige colored Panama, had cost Ander what he imagined was at least a year of this woman's savings, he though haughtily, assuming she worked for an average paying local professional wage. He had bought it on Antigua under pressure from Fauster during his much regretted celebration vacation that was really a commiseration hangover despite at the time and ever since not thinking it suited him at all. According to the salesman, it had four-thousand-plus threads per square inch, it took the craftsman four months to lovingly construct, and it could hold water.

As Ander's savings dwindled, and as it seemed less and less likely he would achieve the earnings progress he had fancifully forecast for himself, the value of the hat and the necessity to use it seemed only to increase. Was it really his paranoia, he wondered, that when the likes of Fauster or D'Misse (during her living days) wore head accessories they attracted comments like "oh my gosh, I have a hat like that, but I never wear it, and I should," or "it's hard to describe, but you just manage to pull it off," or otherwise much love, whilst he, in his Panama, got "no, I mean brave as in good, as in you're bravely trying new styles," and "you got that on holiday, right?" – or otherwise, shade.

"So it is like putting your face in darkness?" asked Spring, trying to understand.

At four o'clock, Spring suggested that two-and-a-bit hours had been enough to look around the district – they should plan for dinner (if Ander was up for it) or other evening activity before the commuter crush began, also before the anticipated fog of particulates descended on the city. Indeed, it was already hazy, with visibility down so that the distant spires of Century Avenue were invisible from where they were. Offering either hot pot at this great place Spring knew not too far away, or returning to his apartment where he lived with his brother – his twin brother – who happened to be an excellent cook, Ander inclined towards the second option citing, for the record, Spring's own assertion that his aptly named twin Autumn might be feeling lonely this Friday night.

"I have to warn you, Ander. He is not like me. He can be quite, how to say – miserable."