“It was cold, and he saw us to the door.”
“Stop. I don’t like it. I don’t like having people die.”
The body was taken back to Tokyo that day. It was carried from the hotel
in a quilt, so tiny that it scarcely seemed to be there at all. My wife and I
stood a short distance off, waiting for the hearse to leave.
“There are no flowers,” I said. “Go find a florist. Quick, before it
leaves.”
My wife ran off for flowers, and I gave them to the Master’s wife, who
was in the hearse with the Master.
