I am a student of modeling and fashion design on the East Coast somewhere, most likely studying in the City. My name is Hjall-something, a Scandinavian name, and though I don't recall seeing myself in a mirror or otherwise viewing myself from an outside perspective, I know that I am tall, blonde, and somewhat intimidating ... slightly Brigitte Nielsen-like in appearance, I would imagine, though not quite so hard edged. Mind you, this is Brigitte Nielsen, the model and actress, not Birgit Nilsson, the opera singer.

I am also looking for a place to stay.

I find a housemate who is an aspiring male model, who manages an out-of-the-way bar that stands under an overpass of some kind. Perhaps it's in Jersey City, though the place is never specified except that at one point he wants me to follow him and see how beautiful the city has become, now that industry has abandoned it and nature is beginning to reclaim much of the cityscape.

We go to a high "hill" of sorts, at least it is a vantage point that places us above most other parts of the city, which is not a place filled with high rises. Mostly it is residential now, or else composed of the decaying husks of old industrial plants and the like.

Somewhere along the way I find myself in orbit above the city, where there are perhaps millions of small objects in orbit which may in fact be chocolates or chocolate bars. Never mind the physics, somehow I can "bat" these down, out of orbit by hand and aim them very accurately to within a few hundred feet of our living space, which is very near the bar.

My housemate expresses amazement at the falling chocolate as I giggle quietly to myself.

One evening he begins to tell me of his frustration when a woman -- to whom he feels an attraction -- approaches him, assuming he is gay or bi, merely because of some mannerism or something that he is scarcely aware of. He becomes a little scary at this, and seems to be overreacting.

He starts telling stories about his father, and how his father was concerned about people thinking his son was gay, either because of his chosen profession or because of other factors of appearance and manner, like the long hair he had worn during his teens.

What he missed in this hissy fit was that the woman approaching him was also clearly attracted to him, regardless of his orientation.

One of our mothers is visiting, and another friend -- I don't recall whether he is mine or my housemate's -- also shows up unannounced. It is a busy time, but I feel obliged somehow to play hostess to everyone.

Fortunately there is all this chocolate.

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