In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

a different life 273 The Walk Through Jessica de Koninck After the movers left our house spoke in voices I had not heard before. The storm door rattled. Downstairs, a radiator clanged awkwardly, like when you had hiccups, and they would not stop. That happens sometimes, the doctor said. What he meant was, dying looks like this. Morphine takes care of everything. First, I threw out medications, syringes, hospital bedding. Then things got harder; your clothes, your books, your tools. The maple workbench went to a woodshop in New York. Architects bought your volumes on design. But I could not find a home for your tuxedo. Let’s face it, I threw away a lot. I’m not taking much with me. I bought a new home. It’s very small. ...

Share