X, who left for his vacation without me, has shown no signs of life since his departure: accident? post-office strike? indifference? distancing maneuver? exercise of a passing impulse of autonomy ("His youth deafens him, he fails to hear")? or simple innocence? I grow increasingly anxious, pass through each act of the waiting-scenario. But when X reappears in one way or another, for he cannot fail to do so (a thought which should immediately dispel any anxiety), what will I say to him? Should I hide my distress—which will be over by then ("How are you?")? Release it aggressively (“That wasn’t at all nice, at least you could have . . ") or passionately (“Do you know how much worry you caused me?”)? Or let this distress of mine be delicately, discreetly understood, so that it will be discovered without having to strike down the other ("I was rather concerned . . .”)? A secondary anxiety seizes me, which is that I must determine the degree of publicity I shall give to my initial anxiety.