at t someto shave again.
A man’s deat ty-eiger rain.
During t ths, four more people died.
One died in Marc at an oil field in Saudi Arabia or Ku, and ttack and a traffic accident. From July to November t ther friend died, also in a car crash.
Unlike my first friend, o realize t t aircase times before and suddenly finding a step missing.
“ould you make up t attack ure designer. It nine, o tc. But t ake a nap,” o sleep, and never woke up again.
t, and ty-four, like a revolutionary or a rock star. One cold rainy evening just before Cmas, stened in tragic yet quite ordinary space betruck and a concrete telephone pole.
A feer t funeral, I to my friend’s apartment to return t, le of hank him.
“Muc once again,” I said.
As usual, able sofa reflected a faint ray of sunligable tray and a pot of Cmas poinsettias.
ed t, in its plastic covering, s leisurely—like t coming our of ion—and quietly put it away.
“I doesn’t smell like a funeral,” I said.
“Clot important. t’s inside them.”
“Um,” I said.
“One funeral after anotretc on to a glass. “ogether?”
“Five,” I said, spreading out t I t’s got to be it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Enough people have died.”
“It’s like t someil enougar appears in the sun.
After ed on ter sunligly into the room.
“You look a little glum these days,” he said.
“Really?” I said.
“You must be t too muc,” opped t t night.”
“?”
“ depressed, I start to clean. Even if it’s tove, mop toill I’m exed, to sleep. In t up and by time I’m putting on my socks I can’t even remember .”
I looked around again. As alhe room was clean and orderly.
“People t t’s our own way of fig off”
“You’re probably right,” I said.
“Even animals t 3 A.M.,” o a zoo at 3 A.M.?”
“No,” I ans.”
“I’ve only done it once. A friend of mine a zoo, and I asked o let me in supposed to, really.”