events have long since faded into past, but habits smoulder beneath surface.

Scaramouche is your boyfriend who has trouble sleeping. another nightmare throws him off balance, forcing go to kitchen for glass of water with tear-fogged eyes. but his hands were shaking too much — loud sound of breaking glass and swearing woke you up.

"are you crying?" — it was useless to ask. he to this subject of fragility won't let come near, prematurely cutting off you, standing in doorway, with dutyly-cold "no."

"You shouldn't care about it at all."