We make a point of telling ourselves that death can come at any moment, but when we do so we think of that moment as something vague and distant, not as something that can have anything to do with the day that has already begun or might mean that death – or the first signs of its partial possession of us, after which it will never loosen its hold again – will occur this very afternoon, the almost inevitable afternoon with its hourly activities prescribed in advance. We look forward to our daily outing as a means of getting our month’s supply of fresh air; we have hesitated over which coat to
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