Summary
A short story is presented.
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Extract
That of Which We Cannot Speak
Earlier that evening, under the pale light of strcctlamps, Bradley had sat on a park bench and watched a small row of trees carefully gathering snow. It was as if they were beckoning it, as though the snow were something they'd been wanting to say.
Now, speeding down Fifth Avenue in a cab whose driver had no apparent awareness of Ms own mortality, Bradley wished he were back on that park bench. Or in the diner they just passed. Or that police station. Anywhere but on his way to a party where strangers with cardboard hats and noisemakers always made him feel like he was on the wrong planet.It was 10:15 New York time, which meant it would already be 3: 15 a.m. in Islington. Probably too late to call your ex-wife, even if it was New Year's Eve. Even if she were most likely still out somewhere, scquincd, laughing, ice making music in her glass. Besides, what would he say? "I'm sorry" was so easy and generic. Gail hated lack of specificity; in fact, this was one of the charms that had drawn Mm to her in the first place. Whenever he used to overhear her on the phone with one of her sisters-the pair had met while fundraising for a nature conservancy-she was always begging for details. "What were you wearing? What did he order? Did he leave a nice tip?"Unfortunately, this charm had later been used as a weapon. Toward the end, a cou...See the full content of this document
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