A key on the dresser - that is what she told him. But it wasn't there. If he had come over earlier like he promised, maybe it would still be here. Who had been here that day - a houseful of people - an afternoon tea party - and all nosy, inscupulous people of inferior quality. Inferior people with their weak chins and narrow slits for eyes...seeing only the shiny and the foul, ignorant of everything in between. The more he thought about it, the more distracted he became from his own role in the unfolding of the day's events.
I am keymaster and those sweaty chins shall not take it away... A key on the dresser. Had he misunderstood? The tea party, their endless nattering, their presence in Anjie's apartment, had kept him away from where he now stood, where he now stood too late. So many secrets. What was it the psychologist had said to him last week? "It's allright to see little green men, just try not to talk to them in public". The bastard. But he was right.
Or was he? Was he really? Was it not really the green men who had organized the tea party to begin with? Not they who had insisted he reveal all his secrets to Anjie? Not they who had invented psychology? He squeezed shut his eyes... and screamed, "Where's the key?!"