
Claire Keegan Reads “So Late in the Day”
The New Yorker: The Writer's Voice - New Fiction from The New Yorker
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A Brief History of Absurdity
He was waiting by the elevator when he heard some one coming. She said, this fine weather, he had chosen badly. He wished she would stay quiet. Then caught himself: we're taking the kids to britis pay for a dip on sunday. If we don't soon go, the summer could get away from us. And we're taking them to my brother's dairy farm. Aren't children so privileged nowadays? They are, surely, have you children yourself? Carl shook his head, no, ah, you could be as well off.
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