“Haven’t you forgotten something?” Delmore grunted.
I was so relieved to be reminded of his presence that I almost drove up onto the curb. Recovering, I immediately sought his advice.
“I was never much good in a crisis,” he said. “And you know how I fared with women.” He sighed, but inside the sound was the obvious desire to be faring with crises and women all over again. “I can’t even really feel the sun, you know. And the trash I eat, I can’t taste. Being dead is a lot like what you’d expect. We’re right to dread it.” I could see exactly one half-foot rectangle of black eye and brown fur and snout in the rearview mirror, but I heard Delmore’s whole life in his voice. “You don’t know how lucky you are. Whatever you decide to do, it’ll be according to your nature. And I wouldn’t be here,
