I went to the Portsmouth Little Theater, but when I arrived, I found it had disappeared. Some other people were supposed to have met me there, but no one was in sight. I waited a while and was about to simply leave, when I decided to call Bertie Roe-Boggs (a Portsmouth, Ohio acquaintance) at her home and find out what had happened. I stepped over to a gas station which consisted of only one room about the size of a telephone booth. I saw an old phone which was somehow unlike any I had ever seen.

I removed the receiver and placed a dime in the slot. At the other end someone unfamiliar began talking. A younger sister of Bertie's named Lisa came on the line and tried to tell me something important about a person named George, but we had a bad connection and her voice quickly died away so I couldn't hear her. She seemed young and seemed to like me.

After hanging up the receiver in exasperation, I looked back over in the direction of the Little Theater and saw a few people, including Bertie, now there. I was upset because everyone was an hour late. I wanted to tell Bertie I couldn't afford to waste my time like that.

Bertie was going to be the director of a play. I walked up to her and she placed her hand on my hand. We walked along with her hand still on mine. I slipped my thumb around her hand and caressed it. I let my hand drop and tried to hold hers, but she pulled away. All the while we were talking. I asked her if she knew anyone named George. She said yes, she had given him a ride last night and she had had a little trouble with him. But she had been able to handle it. She said he lived at 4th and Offnere Streets in Portsmouth. It was really Danny Simpkins (another Portsmouth acquaintance) she was thinking about.

She walked on ahead and left me standing.