Searching for clues, they asked if he was “possibly an alcoholic?” “I should hope so,” he said. “After all the time, money and effort I’ve put into it.”
He never read anything—not even newspapers—and he was never bored. He spent all his time being himself,
“What use is a gun with only two bullets?” I said. I was getting the hang of gun talk and really quite enjoying it. “A gun needs six bullets,” said Donelly. “As in six-shooter.” “Basically I’m four bullets short.” “You’re working at thirty-three percent of your potential capacity.” “Six minus four equals two.” “A shortfall of four.” “A guy with onl...
We had seen each other so infrequently that the transition from seeing each other to not seeing each other was almost imperceptible. Perhaps I had begun to pick up some of Donelly’s indifference to the way things turn out.
I tried to call him several years ago the number was unavailable. I had no fall-back address for him—this was in the days before e-mail—and have no idea where he is.
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