Saturday, Chloe invites me to a party in Brooklyn, we take a cab to one of her ad agency colleague's apartment. "Oh, and by the way", she says as we get out in the dark, "he still has no electricity after the storm".
It's after an hour or so that I see him across the large living room, Henry, this time through the smoke from our breaths and the hundred candle lights*. He drags me closer without talking, he looks at me and only me and I can't tell if he's smiling. I sit down next to him in the sofa, we don't say anything and the smell from another moment like this years earlier almost paralyzes me. Maybe it's just the cold.
"Are you happy", he asks, the first thing he says after what feels like hours.
"No", I say.
"Good, only ignorant people are truly happy. The rest are just faking it".
Someone sitting next to us starts laughing nervously. Henry grabs my hand under the blanket, we both know it wasn't supposed to be a joke.
*Today's ad men don't smoke and they can't tell whiskey from brandy
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