Talking to the Dead
“The city feels like what it is. A smear of brick and concrete slotted into the narrow gap between earth and sky, more beautiful than neither. This is the layer where the violence starts. We’re only three hundred yards from 86 Allison Street, and the ghosts of that place are pressing close.Jane Alexander is her normal brisk, bright, efficient self. Me, I’m nothing of the sort, still disturbed by yesterday. My neck feels jolted, as though something was knocked out of line by Penry’s blow and hasn...’t yet slipped into place again. But it’s not so much a physical thing. More a mental one. As though some of my equanimity, my confidence, was dislodged. I keep remembering, not the actual blow as such, more the state of myself in the instant following. A rag doll utterly useless on the bottom step.Not a good state to be in.Not a good state to be in when our third interview of the day—the first two having been bland and unhelpful—starts with a dark doorway swinging open and a pale face looming toward us from the darkness beyond.MoreLess
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