
George Saunders Reads Claire Keegan
The New Yorker: Fiction
Kahul's Journey
Kahul watched the credits while he ate a piece of cake and drank champagne. He put his head down on the cushions and let his mind fall into a series of difficult thoughts which he labored over. At one point something from years ago came back to him, his mother standing at the gas cooker making buttermilk pancakes,. His father was at the head of the table, he and his brother seated on either side. Both were in their twenties at that time in college. They had served everyone, brought their plates to the table and they began to read. When she went to sit down with her own plate his brother had reached out and quickly pulled the chair out from under her
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