Зима тревоги нашей

           Theshadeswereupsothatthesummerlatelightstrainedthroughthecrossed-wiregrating,anditwasveryquiet,aquietlikearushingsound,andthat’swhatIneeded.Ifeltinmyleftsidepocketforthelumpthecashregisterpushedagainstme.Thetalisman—Ihelditinmytwohandsandstareddownatit.IhadthoughtIneededityesterday.HadIforgottoputitbackorwasmykeepingitwithmenoaccident?Idon’tknow.

           AsalwaysitputitspoweronmeasItraceditsdesignwithmyfinger.Atmiddayitwasthepinkofarose,butintheeveningitpickedupadarkertone,apurplishblushasthoughalittlebloodhadgotinit.

           Itwasn’tthoughtIneededbutrearrangement,changeofdesign,asthoughIwereinagardenfromwhichthehousehadbeenmovedinthenight.SomekindofmakeshifthadtobesetuptosheltermeuntilIcouldrebuild.IhadretiredintobusynessuntilIcouldletnewthingsenterslowlyandcountandidentifythemastheycame.Theshelves,alldayassaulted,showedmanygapswheretheirdefenseshadbeenbreechedbythehungryhorde,asnaggle-toothedeffect,awalledtownafterartilleryfire.

           "Letusprayforourdepartedfriends,"Isaid."Thethinredlineofcatsup,thegallantpicklesandcondimentsdowntothesmallbaldcapersofvinegar.Wecannotdedicate,wecannotconsecrate—nonotthat.Itisrathertoustheliving—nonotthat.Alfio—Iwishyouluckandsurceasefrompain.Youarewrong,ofcourse,butwrongnesscanbeapoulticetoyou.Youmadeasacrificeforhavingbeenasacrifice."