Leif and I are on the train to New York in car 1399. There's a guy with a quarter in his ear and I've seen Leif only once in the past two months. His hair is sticking up a little in the front. He's losing it just a bit. When I get home tonight I'll miss him in Hampshire. I'll miss his gla**es and the way he writes in purple pen, the way his collar falls to the left. Have you seen his ankles lately? I know he's next to me. I feel his sweater here, but when I'm sleeping it's only green sheets and the hair down my legs. I think I'll write you, Leif, when I'm near Tuesday, sometime before you go and I'm back on the train.