Days later as I was kneeling on the floor, unpacking my suitcase, my roommate's at the store so I am alone in the house, I looked up as a golden light appeared in the porch door silently; and there stood Sana and Jungkook. ... We all stare at one another in the golden light. Not a sound. I'm also caught red handed with a copy of my article of my time with them. It's one of the several occasions in my life when a meeting with them seems to be suffused with a silent golden light, although I don't even know what it means, unless it means that they are actually some kind of angels or archangels come down to this world and I recognize them.
They for the first time in our lives failed to look me a goodbye in the eye but looked away shifty-like-- I couldn't understand it and still don't-- I knew something was bound to be wrong and it turned out wrong. But I never thought we were completely over it. I read of our time together as though it was a HUCKLEBERRY FINN or THE GREAT GATSBY or some kind of idyllic exploration of personal freedom and the promise of the live-long dream. It was less a story than a state of vision, a feeling of beatific consciousness.
