at the doctor. it’s a second story room, all white, with a large window in it where i can see green leaves in the sunlight. she looks at my blood test results and tells me there’s something about them that’s troubling her. one of my numbers is off. i look at it. where it should be 5.25 it’s -6.5. she says she’s going to look into it and tells me not to worry until she can confirm a diagnosis. i shrug and leave. in a communal area jackie is returning my phone that she borrowed. she tells me that i have HIV. she checked my voicemail when she had the phone and she heard the message. i’m not all that surprised or terribly worried. She says brett has it too. then i get a tour of a library. i’m carrying blankets and papers. this is where i’ll live now. it’s a very plain small library, but it’s safe. one of the rooms is closed off but i can see through the glass panes of the french doors and it’s another room just like the one i’m in: brown carpet, rows and rows of bookshelves, limited seating. i ask if they have a printer in there. i have a story in my hand and it’s covered in notes written in lipstick that i know i wrote but i can hardly read it and don’t remember what i meant by some of them. but i have a final version saved if i can just print it. i go to brett. i know he has a printer. i ask him if he knows he’s HIV+. he says he does but he’s not going to do anything about it. i tell him he really should, at the very least be monitored, but i don’t push it. he fights his own battles these days, that was the agreement. i ask him for paper and he gives me paper that i think is only printed on one side but as my story starts printing i realize it’s printed on both sides. and so there they are, both our stories overlapping each other, indistinguishable and illegible.