This story has a turbulent history. I finished writing it one morning in 1995, in a cafe in London. I remember the feeling of tears on my face, and the look I got from the guy behind the counter. Ten years later, it was published in the anthology Homewrecker—but the publisher, Soft Skull, accidentally left out the ending, and, to add injury to injury, didn’t pay me or, as far as I know, any of the other contributors, even though they later sold foreign rights. The pe...