At the same time, David’s passing incited sympathy in me. David, with his shaved head and thick biceps, who held himself, always, very upright. David, who put tahini on everything and always skipped dessert, who roamed around Delhi wearing Fabindia kurtis and had named his son Ravi. David, who, like the rest of the foursome, spent a whole lot of time contemplating legacy.
No way you’re actually trying to convince me to care about this man. Not now, this close to the end, when he did literally nothing. I could barely even remember who he was and now you're telling me to care about his death?
