are talking on the balcony of the student union building. They are in the second year of their respective degrees (Rina, English Literature, Sally, English and American Literature) and their friendship has deepened over the past few months since Michael, Sally’s housemate, has been seeing Rina on a more regular basis, and Sally and Rina have found themselves in more regular social contact. They have become close, but this closeness is still fresh with novelty. They are discussing a party that Rina left early with Michael the night before, and although Sally relays her anecdotes well, and selects only notable and entertaining details from the time following Rina’s departure (of which there are many, the party being particularly well-attended and growing raucous largely towards the end) Rina cannot help but afford herself a moment of disconnect, or abstraction, in which she almost hears Sally’s voice reduce slightly in volume, and in this moment Sally’s face presents itself in a new way to Rina – not as her friend’s face, but as a system of moving parts. It is at this point Rina feels an impulse drawing forwards in her mind, to punch Sally’s face as hard as she can. The impulse hardens and shocks her. She worries that the shock of the thought has registered visibly on her own face, and is relieved to find that Sally, who is still ably telling her anecdote, is oblivious to the violent impulse, already rejected and repressed by her friend. Still, the shock of the impulse has distracted Rina. Why had this thought occurred? Rina clenches her fist a little, as if to regain control of her body, to make sure she can be certain she will not act upon the impulse. She likes Sally, she reassures herself. This is simply an irrational glitch. Rina, feeling reassured, is now ready to fully engage in the anecdote, confident that for the duration of her inward detour she has appeared outwardly engaged and interested. She has said Really? and also furrowed her brow. This frown was initially an outward response to her worrying inner concerns, but Rina, registering some confusion on Sally’s face (since that passage of anecdote did not especially warrant a frown), was able to pass it off as an expression of deep concentration, and so loosen her frown into a welcoming smile as if she were satisfied that a certain detail she had been unsure about had found a pleasing resolution. However, as Rina now tries to reengage with a renewed interest in Sally’s story, in part motivated by a sense of guilt at her violent thought and subsequent betrayal of her friend in feigning interest, she finds she has lost track of the anecdote, or has at least missed a crucial part of its structure or rhetorical arc – the crux, she fears, on which the meaning of the story depends. As Sally increases her enthusiasm at what must surely be the denouement, Rina feels a sense of panic draw forwards in her, sensing that despite her best efforts to feign both surprise and comprehension she will betray the fact that she has not been listening, and Sally will realise her efforts have been expended without hope of reward, and will probably doubt herself, and her ability to tell an amusing anecdote, or worse, her friendship with Rina, who is only being further distracted by this sense of panic: that she will hurt her friend, that she will be thought of as disingenuous, that she is, indeed, relatively disingenuous compared to her friend, who in a matter of seconds will have good grounds on which to base that poor opinion of her. And this panic, Rina feels, is now registering outwardly on her face, and though it is possible Sally will read this as anticipation, Rina doubts she will do so for very long, as Sally’s voice now seems entirely abstracted to Rina; only her bright expectant eyes are speaking and when they stop speaking what will Rina say? What can she possibly say?