THE KEY
I packed up my things during the night, having ridden to the office in a crowded shuttle bus; I filled two trash cans with things to get rid of, and fit everything I really needed into a single black body bag. This I tied with a red ribbon; I still had my tin soldiers to pack — I would need two boxes, one for my collection and the other for duplicates. I chose November, a good month to end everything: nights are early, and there are days with warm wind when it’s pleasant to walk to the metro thinking about the prospect of snow, Christmas tree markets, the stockings hanging in the street stalls, and the lights strung in the windows and over balconies, even though it’s still raining, and the grass is thick and green around piles of dog s**t on the lawn, and the forecasters keep prom
