The whole story of it is that I didn’t know the hole was there. I fell in, blinking. The stars made their usual percussion. I discovered Franz in the hole, and to my delight, he was thirsty. He wanted milk. A whole carton of it. Every orifice in my body wanted to give it to him, but I couldn’t. The milk had run away with its glass. Franz started flopping about like a fish in protest. His limbs reached out to create an entire star. I was sorry, but our hours were staunchly limited. I suggested we get on with playing hide and seek. He chose to dig a small hole from the larger hole we were in, and to rest under that awful awning of dirt. I was sweet—I rested my finger on my chin and tapped it. We went on like this, Franz feigning an attack, me dragging my whole leg around the circumference of our home, avoiding the bit to which Franz had staked claim. He could stay in that hole as long as he wanted, for all I was concerned. I was going deeper into the whole meaning of things, starting with the fall of Rome…