RECOGNITION, COMIC, WITH GHOSTS (RESTAURANT INTERIOR) O — the mouth says. O. The wine glass suspended. The hand that has not yet decided to put it down. Across the table: a chair angled the way someone angled it when they leaned in to say something important. A napkin folded the way they always folded it — not a swan, not a bishop's hat — just that fold, the one that was theirs. A flower testing the limits of its own optimism. The door is open. August is outside, doing what August does. The O is not sadness. The O is the exact moment before the story you will tell about this for the rest of your life.