Asheville Gymnopédie
They had the ballgame on the console radio and they remembered his name. "Mr. Whitmore," they said. And it was towards evening but still quite hot so they had the door open. When he lay himself back in the chair, the corner of the page of the month of June took off in a movement of breeze. "Not long," he told them. "Just got in." And he let out his breath, closed his eyes. The barber's hands were small and his fingers were soft at the rough of his throat. "He never did, he never did!" the barber was telling someone. Later, when his eyes came open again, black combs were turning and touching each other within some kind of liquid.
