A small paper bag. ‘Here’s a little something extra. See you next week.’ Susan heard his boots on the linoleum and scrambled under the covers o... the couch, settling into the indentation made by her mother’s body in the night. She peeked out to look, her mother still on the floor, curled on her side now, staring at the bag. She heard the kitchen door slam, and her mother sobbed, picking up the bag and throwing it through the doorway into the living room. Susan ducked under the covers until only. That’s when I found the room, the body and the books, more questions but no answers. I tried to look at the room afresh. The body bowed forward as if worshiping a long forgotten deity, which may well have been the case. The unfinished books, the obsession with longevity. It seemed ironic that a man performing some ritual in the quest for immortality should die in the middle of it. Then again, maybe he died at the end of it. Was completing it his destined task? All those books he could have. More

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