When K. gets up in the morning, he cracks some eggs. Each one hisses when it strikes the pan. When the eggs start turning white, he scoops them out with a spatula and eats them. It is eight thirty. He goes into his bedroom and dresses for work. After tying his shoes, he goes outside. He gets into his car. The traffic is average. K. takes the overpass, exiting the freeway. Rather than going to work, he decides that he will visit Ethan. Ethan's house is only a few moments away. When he arrives at Ethan's house, he parks his car. He gets out and goes to the door, but the door is locked. When he knocks, no one answers. K. knows that Ethan does not have a job. He knows that Ethan is probably sitting on the kitchen floor, strung out and nodding off. K. is certain that the dope Ethan doubtless has been shooting this morning was dope that K. had bought for him. K. goes around to the back door, but it is also locked. Ethan never left anything open. Taking off his shoe, K. breaks the tall rectangular window next to the back door. He reaches through and unlocks it. He opens the door and goes inside. It only takes a couple of minutes to find Ethan sitting on the toilet, shorts around his ankles, his forehead resting on his crossed forearms. He hums tunelessly and does not seem to notice when K. opens the door. There is a syringe in the ceramic toothbrush holder mounted over the sink. K. picks it up, then puts it back down. 'Wake up,' he says, knowing that Ethan won't even hear him. It'll be awhile before he'll even be aware that K. is in the house. K. leaves the bathroom. He doesn't bother to shut the door.