So, Rona thought as she left the shop, Si was keeping track of her. Si and - what was her name? Robinia, Ribena, Rubella, something like that. Rona had always suspected that there was something going on between the two of them at the Word, but she'd always been too disgusted to look into it further. She knew there was a reason why Rubella was always sucking up to Si. She thought about now it and wished that she'd thought of a different way to phrase it as the mental image came springing forth, unbidden. It was revolting: Rubella was fifteen years younger than Si, at least.

Janie had obviously thought that Rona would be flattered by the attention, but then, Janie hadn't known who Si and what's-her-name were. Rona didn't feel flattered: she'd done her best to forget about Si and the whole Word on the Street debacle and she wished Si would extend her the same courtesy. She would much prefer to imagine that none of those people existed at all. She avoided walking past the old office of the magazine just in case, even though on the one occasion she'd accidentally passed it she'd seen that the office was long shut and had become a high-end hairdressing salon. The kind you wouldn't even know was there if it didn't have a sign, and you could only see the sign from the other side of the street, or from two blocks up.

The thought of Si picking up a copy of her zine, holding it, reading all about her life now - it gave her the creeps. She should put a message in the next issue, just for him. Something subtle like 'Si, fuck off!' written in bold capitals across the front cover. Some kind of exposé of the last days of the Word on the Street - and the early days, and the middle days, too; except everyone in Melbourne had probably forgotten about the magazine's existence by now anyway, as they should.

But whatever she did Si probably wouldn't heed it. He'd always been oblivious. He was out there, obviously, probably still floating above the footpath the way he always did, ignorant of everything around him and fancying himself informed, getting older by the second and all the more so because he never acknowledged it. Of course he was still around, and of course if he saw something she'd written he'd take an interest. He probably still thought he could bring the Word back. He'd probably try to recruit her if he ever did.

She was pretty sure she'd say no if that ever happened. About seventy-five percent sure.