Someone's standing behind me, their hand on my tummy, over my hips, under my breasts. Holding me gently close. But I mustn't look. If I turn around there's nobody there. He whispers to me that he wants to give me something, so that I will remember him later. It's only small he says, as he pulls my jeans away from my tummy and drops it down inside. A tiny metallic something falls into the shadows between my jeans and my belly. When I wake up, I have to resist the urge to search through yesterdays trousers.