I answered the door for her at the home of a friend; she had rented a room there but had been evicted, and she blamed me in her disgrace. Her accusations were so virulent, I could begin to doubt my sanity, not knowing how to diagnose her— paranoia? schizophrenia? or was she justified? Was it I who didn’t understand? Was I crazy to think that my thoughts were so reasonable, my friends so innocent? Had I gotten into a bigger mess than I realized? If I couldn’t answer, at least I could face the difficulties, if only the difficulties I could self-inflict, only the questions I could understand. I told her I was sorry and refused to let her in.