AIDS

1992.

Very cool, dapper, gay crowd.

Grieving.

My best friend had died of AIDS.

A few days later, the night of the memorial, at a downtown loft, we hung. Thirty guys. Two women.

The only straight guy was me.

One woman was with her brother.

The other woman was sitting next to me on my friend’s bed. We were drunk but alert because of cocaine. We had met 5 minutes earlier. She put her head on my shoulder. I kissed her. She didn’t resist.

I stood and locked the door.