I was at the bar when guess who came in. He walked straight in and sat down on the stool right next to me. Just him, and me. He ordered a warm drink and chatted with Johnnie a bit, and I stayed silent sipping my own cold one, content to enjoy the anonymous propinquity. It lasted quite awhile, at least the length of two of his hot drinks. Eventually a dialogue between one of us and Johnnie invited the third and soon just the two of us were chatting. Well, he was telling and I was mostly listening, as if I hadn't had a clear view through his office window for one and a half years and hadn't learned some things that only roommates would know. What do you do? Oh, you have an office around here? Is that so? And so on. He told nearly implausible plausibilities and I couldn't follow the line of embellishment, but it was entertaining all the same and, to my gratification, it went much like I would have guessed such a conversation would go: I learn about him and I stay anonymous—and not by my doing. At the end, many drinks in, he offered me his name, which I didn't know, and held the door for me and the heavy box of gifts I was carrying. I said, "You know, I've seen you around. Next time, I'll say hi."