That night in her dream she was on the motorcycle. Dressed in black, fringe flying from her arms. The metal vibrating unstoppably between her legs. She began frantically in her sleep to feel for the edges of paper slips in boxes, to slide a check across a counter. She woke up, panting among the black roses. She reached for the antler, but rubbing it had no effect. To calm herself, she thought of what time the bank would open, which side she would part her hair, whether it would be the pink or the coral lipstick. She concentrated on each of these things until she was sure the motorcycle was gone.