When you hear your name called, stretch your fingers like a pianist— clap sixty times in a steady beat. Drink a little wine, play Elvis tunes, re-tell the story of when his heart was broken for the first time, he created a dance so sad he never showed it to anyone. Later, enter a room with a made bed, stiff effigy sheets. Plan on midnight cake. While the highway cars play chicken and the neighbor’s schnauzer lets itself be known as the top dog on the block, spring will carol on, another year indistinct.