He started to tell a story about another coworker of his who had, earlier that evening, before he got sick, wronged him in a small way that to him felt catastrophic. Mallory did not know or care about this person. It was a pleasant day outside, still chilly but the sun shone bright. As he spoke, she became aware of how little daylight there was left. His story filled her ears the way music from a radio punctures a peaceful reverie on the beach. She couldn’t wait to be back in her room, alone with her own thoughts.
