’ ‘Please, stay with me, please!’ He stood up in the darkness with his arms outstretched, staring into the moon. I looked at my indigo watch and...saw the minute hand close to midnight. Jonathan let out a wailing howl when the clock turned to midnight. His howl was loud and shrill, like nothing I had ever heard. Looking down at me one last time, he smiled. ‘I will always love you Angela. You need to let me go now.’ ‘I can’t Jonathan.’ ‘You must. I need to pass over now, it’s midnight.’ ‘I love. But they shy away from Neal Court, sensing in some inexplicable way that there is a deep, black grief which is eating with a brooding, sharp agony at the man, that his uninterrupted silence hides a secret which they wouldn't want to hear even if the chance were to be given. There is a malignancy about Neal Court, they say, one which festers, and that no amount of alcohol dissipates. They always leave a stool empty on either side of the man, these jaded pragmatists of upper Broadway, and they. More

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