During my exchange with Voss, she had slipped behind the counter, and then was standing there triumphantly with a bound leather ledger in her hands.�...What’s that?” Voss inquired.“‘The books’, as it were,” she replied, “Or at least one book. Might provide us with a clue about who is ordering those distinctive clay jars you’re so obsessed with.”Voss nodded and rose. “Good job,” I replied to Calliope.“What’s our play here, Theo?” Voss asked, “Do we wait for the guards, or bolt? They’ve got to be on. It did not occur to me that I got the ideas for my outfits from photographs of my mother taken at a time when she looked happy to be with my father. Josh and I were unstoppable in our pursuit of 1960s-inflected accessories and experiences, but we were timid about sex. On the occasions when we found ourselves alone in bedrooms or on couches, our bravado dissipated and we became children again, unsure of what was expected of us. We did not have a lot of lust to guide us. We found each other. More

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