Maybe seeds will be planted, maybe there will be harvests then, maybe early figs to eat, maybe new life, maybe fresh blood, maybe companionship, and love, and protection, safety from what’s outside, maybe the door will hold, or maybe…maybe the troubles will come, and the end will come, and the sky will collapse and there will be terrible rains and showers of poison light, or maybe my life is really fine…maybe Joe loves me and I’m only crazy thinking otherwise. Or maybe not. Maybe it’s even worse than I know. Maybe I want to know, maybe I don’t. The suspense, Mr. Lies, it’s killing me.