That evening when he called me up, he told me in a frightened voice, full of anxiety, that we had to meet up. It was important, vital even that we do so.
While talking he would stop all of a sudden and let the conversation break off; I could feel how defenseless he was, he was tormented and increasingly distressed.
I ended up inviting him over to my place when he reticently warned me that he could not go into any more detail on such a delicate topic.
While waiting for him to arrive, I kept on wondering about this unexpected turn of events: I had known G... for three years. At first, we had met up quite regularly. Eighteen months later, we were meeting up less and less often, rarely even. I couldn’t understand why, all of a sudden, he wanted us to meet up. Why this need for silence that made him hesitate as he spoke these sentences that had obviously been carefully prepared? Three years ago, he had been such an orator. I wondered what other changes were afoot for him, and for me...