The Alan Sondheim Mail Archive


Mr. Wirth


Mr. Wirth, I said, a penny for your thoughts.

Wirth slowly turned in my direction, his face 
blank, whiskey in hand.

Aye, that you should know less than that, he 
replied. Some things let to quieten, I believe.

I couldn't answer. Ever since Wirth appeared in 
the midst of our little group, things hadn't been 
the same. It was difficult to figure precisely 
what the matter was, or to be sure, what the 
matter was with Wirth, but there was matter to be 
sure.

I murmured something about the weather, only to 
be met, once again, by silence.

And silence ruled the little bar on the heights 
overlooking the sea, until I shuffed my chair 
about, and left the premises. The long path home 
beckoned me, and I would be at the worries, once 
again.

_

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