What a Piece of Work I Am, Chapter 31 begins: ONE NIGHT, my grandfather was sitting at his usual place, the small round table in the back. It was not a pleasant night. He had come through the rain for his usual couple of drinks. Two or three of the “boys” at the bar had made their ritual trips back to his table to see how he was doing and ask how Eleanor was getting along. They all knew Jack Leroy, and they all knew that Eleanor was ill. “Sick,” they said, and in a mumble they would add “fatal,” but they wouldn’t say “cancer,” because they were unconscious believers in the power of words, their magic, and their dangers.
Share this post
710: One night . . .
Share this post
What a Piece of Work I Am, Chapter 31 begins: ONE NIGHT, my grandfather was sitting at his usual place, the small round table in the back. It was not a pleasant night. He had come through the rain for his usual couple of drinks. Two or three of the “boys” at the bar had made their ritual trips back to his table to see how he was doing and ask how Eleanor was getting along. They all knew Jack Leroy, and they all knew that Eleanor was ill. “Sick,” they said, and in a mumble they would add “fatal,” but they wouldn’t say “cancer,” because they were unconscious believers in the power of words, their magic, and their dangers.