The night truly got away from us, didn’t it? The last thing that I remember is your insistence that we tried your Tasmanian delicacies, little candies the consistency of congealed blood and the color of tar, wrapped in what looked like bloody, spotted gauze. The night was a blur after that, with lucid moments of memory popping up like scattered showers across our English countryside. I vaguely remember the firmness of your hands, a rousing verse of our national anthem, then my naked body on a metallic operating table, and an audience (though I may have just dreamt up that last part!). Did I kiss that fellow with the Xanadu coat? It was a night I shall not forget any time soon (perhaps I already have!).
This is all to say that Roger, my compatriot, and research assistant, has been missing for exactly three days now since our visit. You don’t happen to know what happened to him, do you?