Cirrus@Austlit

'When I was nineteen, my partner, who had the name of an archangel and wore silver polish on his nails, left our inner-city loft early one morning to visit his family in Leichhardt. That night, shortly after midnight, I woke to loud knocking. I thought he had lost his keys. I opened the door to see two police officers, who took their caps off in unison—such an old-fashioned gesture, I would later think—and I immediately knew. They said my archangel had jumped in front of a train.' (Introduction)