Moses checks the time, ignoring a screenful of vacuous sympathy messages. The fans will be crowding the pavement outside the funeral now—strangers who believe they know her, love her. They will flood blocks, these blank grievers, wielding their spectacularly fabricated relationships with Elsie Blitz, beloved American starlet, like tickets to the fair, trying to catch a glimpse of the corpse, even though she was cremated.
