He was forty, thin from treatment, and lived alone in a small house filled with books. During my first visit, he pointed toward the board before I had even removed my coat.
“Do you know how to play?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Do you cheat?”
“Only when necessary.”
He studied me briefly.
“We may get along.”
We did.
—
I brought soup, washed dishes, and made tea.
Before long, Carl seemed to remember every small thing I liked.
At first, I assumed he was simply observant.
Later, I understood that he was not learning those details.
He was remembering them.
Carl had stage-four cancer.
