It had always seemed to him a very plush kind of problem, a privilege, really, to consider whether life was meaningful or not.
At other times, he wondered whether it was the world that had lost its color, or his friends themselves. When had everyone become so alike?
He closed his eyes. Behind him, the hyenas howled, furious at him. Before him stood the house with its open door. He wasn't close yet, but he was closer than he'd been: close enough to see that inside, there was a bed where he could rest, where he could l
It was very cold that afternoon, whipping wind, and the city seemed to mirror my mood, which was gray and bleak.
My phone rang, and although it wasn't a sinister time of night, and although nothing had happened that I would later see as foreshadowing, I knew, I knew.
It's a good story,' he said. He even grinned at me. 'I'll tell you.''Please,' I said.And then he did.
He experienced the singular pleasure of watching people he loved fall in love with other people he loved.
