I buried him.’ ‘Who?’ But his sticky, gritty hand cups my cheek, and he manages a weak smile. ‘I’ll explain,’ he says. ‘But let’s c...ean ourselves up. You for one, could use a comb through that hair. And I think I should take a look at my hair. I think I might have cut it off.’ ‘Cypress, I’m sorry for saying this, but you don’t really sound like yourself.’ ‘I know,’ he tells me. And he lights a smoke. ‘And I haven’t really been myself lately. But I’ll explain. I can’t ask you to understand. The paper closed at eight pm, and Mahoney rarely showed up before two in the afternoon. It was Alan’s job to clip wire reports for him, and also to suggest headlines to go with them, if they didn’t like the wire service ones. Arthur also wrote a twice weekly column on national affairs, and often had Alan doing some research for that. Alan was enjoying this assignment immensely. ‘Delivery for you.’ ‘Thanks,’ Alan replied. He tore open the box, a small FedEx mailer, and peered inside. There was a. More

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