He never cared for sleeping, not when there were people he could talk with.
“He wants you to come visit,” Charlotte said, “but, Mitch...” “Yes?” “He's very weak.”
The porch steps. The glass in the front door. I absorbed these things in a slow, observant manner, as if seeing them for the first time.
I felt the tape recorder in the bag on my shoulder, and I unzipped it to make sure I had tapes. I don't know why. I always had tapes.
Connie answered the bell. Normally buoyant, she had a drawn look on her face. Her hello was softly spoken.
“How's he doing?” I said. “Not so good.” She bit her lower lip.
“I don't like to think about it. He's such a sweet man, you know?” I knew. “This is such a shame.”
Charlotte came down the hall and hugged me. She said that Morrie was still sleeping, even though it was 10 A.M.
We went into the kitchen. I helped her straighten up, noticing all the bottles of pills, lined up on the table,
a small army of brown plastic soldiers with white caps.
My old professor was taking morphine now to ease his breathing.
I put the food I had brought with me into the refrigerator—soup, vegetable cakes, tuna salad.
전체재생
다음페이지
문장검색