Snippet Seven

"But you're young and you only live one, right, Feder?"

"Well, I'm not sure I'm young anymore, Ansel."

"I thought you were always young, gay, accordion-spry."

"That's a bit of an act. That's what I do—or, what I see others do, who know how to do it well."

"Do you think about running out of time?"

"I do."

"That surprises me."

"I don't see why it should."

"Because you're happy! You smile, you... emote."

"I am as old as my father was when he died."

There was a silence. A comfortable, firm silence. Ansel wondered whether to let the silence pertain. Yet he felt inclined, called to continue. The tone, he knew, would not quite be his.

"And how do you feel about that, Feder?"

"When I wake tomorrow, my friend, I will send you a text, to let you know."