I do not resent or bear Albin malice for what he did.
I am also not so benevolent to chirp that it was any great gift to have a stranger intentionally die in my office.
I was not, and am not, thrilled about it.
But I was kept busy calming the reductive rage and verdicts of others. Many got bent out-of-shape about the incident.
Dody announced that Albin had been “some sneaky old bastard who worked your sympathy, and then pulled the shittiest stunt of this century.” Dody also decided she’d never accept a sleepover invitation again, quickly overturned the first time she had too many frozen piña coladas and passed out, holding like a baby’s rattle a plastic stir stick topped with a palm tree. When I moved her to the guest bedroom, she protested thickly that “Albert s**t and pissed this bed
