If I look now, I see that something was already broken. But what?

"Janie."

My parents used to call me that. I'm in my house again laying on the floor. The mellow street lights setting the scene.

Donnie is outside the apartment door. He's a skinny type of guy with a snaky, dragon tattoo resting on his neck. He used to hack game servers for nerds, but now he uses those network skills to run TechnoLove's private business. Like the bottled nanite-filled vial I handed to the boy at the bar.

People find themselves more depressed these days. This is one of the things that helps.

"Janie I know what happened."

Did he? Even I didn't know what happened. Nobody knew. It wasn't on the news. The boy had walked off the edge of the earth.

Red lights flash as police hovers glide past the window.

"I know you're there."

Our locators give us away. I've got it set up on my wrist, a stenciled little scorpion tattoo under my bracelet phone. Not a great idea I was told. A good way to lose a hand.

For the record, I know Donnie's is on the base of his spine, between those dragon-spine ridges of bone I love to trail my fingers down and his smooth tan ass.

"Ok." Donnie says. "Now you're scaring me. Janie, you hardly ever liked him."

Didn't I?

I hear rustling and scratching as he uncovers the panel lock on my door and fiddles with the buttons.

"You better not be high," he tells me.

The old ceiling fan spins slowly above me, dust tumbling off like snow.

Gods, my hands were so cold in the winter. Even when my mother had walked me down the frigid streets holding my little mittened hand. 

It's impossible to do that now. They raised the weather shield in 4612. 

Donnie curses and speaks again.

"You better not be."

"I'm not."

My voice is sadly normal.

Donnie gets the door open and sees the way I lay on the floor. I don't look normal.

I let the air in my lungs escape in a sigh.