looked after him with lost eyes which were still blue. Reilly worked as a porter at the Central Hospital. He thought constantly about the kitten while he rolled beds down the corridors. He rolled children to the playroom, he rolled people in for surgery, he rolled the deceased down to
the mortuary in the basement. He was in the habit of whistling quietly as he walked. And all the while he thought about the kitten.
Over the years, Reilly had started making mistakes, and sometimes the beds had ended up in the wrong place. He had been given a warning and he pulled himself together after that. God forbid that I roll someone who is still breathing down to the mortuary, he thought.
Reilly was going through his wardrobe looking for some smart clothes to wear for Jon's funeral, but he had never owned nice clothes. Everything he had was worn and faded and almost none of it was clean. Most of what he found looked like rags, and he threw them in a pile on the floor. The kitten leapt on top of it to play. Having searched carefully for a long time, he found a high-necked sweater and a pair of khaki combat trousers with numerous pockets. The trousers were creased and it worried him. Yet he felt reasonably pleased, though other thoughts soon dragged him down. The kitten watched him while he got dressed and when he had finished, he took out the Koran.
"What is the Day of Noise and Clamor? And what will explain to thee what the Day of Noise and Clamor is? It is a Day whereon men will be like moths scattered about, and the mountains will be like carded wool. Then, he whose balance of good deeds will be found heavy, will be in a life of good pleasure and satisfaction. But he whose balance of good deeds will be found light will have his home in a bottomless Pit. And what will explain to thee what this is? It is a Fire blazing fiercely!"
He put the book away. He had studied the Koran extensively, but he did not believe in God. He just liked to pretend that a higher power existed. Now he had read that a punishment awaited him for everything he had done. It was a pit of burning fire. He did not believe in that either and that was a relief, but he told
himself that he was atoning in his own way by repeatedly exposing himself to the violent threats in the Koran.
Axel picked him up in the Mercedes.
He was wearing a well-cut suit and a plum-colored shirt, and he looked Reilly up and down.
"We're saying goodbye to Jon," he said. "And you look like a tramp."
Reilly looked aghast. He did not think the sweater was as bad as that, and the khaki trousers were his best pair.
"Jon would not have cared about a few creases," he muttered.
He trudged down the stairs after Axel and got into the car. From the corner of his eye he studied Axel's suit. It was charcoal with thin lapels and he also wore a long coat.
"You could have done something with your hair," Axel continued. "It's just hanging there."
He leaned forward to see what Reilly was wearing on his feet.
"You haven't even got laces in your shoes," he pointed out. "Why not?"
"They snapped," Reilly said. He fumbled with the seat belt.
"It's about time you took a good look at yourself in the mirror," Axel said.
"I haven't got one," Reilly said.
"You must have one in your bathroom?"
"It broke."
"And how did you manage that?"
"I don't remember exactly. I must have been high. I don't have to account for every minute of the day," he added, a little hurt because Axel was pinpointing his bad habits.
Nothing more was said. They drove on in silence and Reilly watched people through the car windows. Each and every one of them was going somewhere, yet it looked as if they were all lost. As if they did not know the streets and were complete strangers to the town.
"It would be very odd," he said out loud, "if there's no purpose behind it all. Life. And us."
"Don't start all that," Axel said.
"But think about snowflakes," Reilly said. "And the northern lights."
"They're beautiful," Axel said,
the mortuary in the basement. He was in the habit of whistling quietly as he walked. And all the while he thought about the kitten.
Over the years, Reilly had started making mistakes, and sometimes the beds had ended up in the wrong place. He had been given a warning and he pulled himself together after that. God forbid that I roll someone who is still breathing down to the mortuary, he thought.
Reilly was going through his wardrobe looking for some smart clothes to wear for Jon's funeral, but he had never owned nice clothes. Everything he had was worn and faded and almost none of it was clean. Most of what he found looked like rags, and he threw them in a pile on the floor. The kitten leapt on top of it to play. Having searched carefully for a long time, he found a high-necked sweater and a pair of khaki combat trousers with numerous pockets. The trousers were creased and it worried him. Yet he felt reasonably pleased, though other thoughts soon dragged him down. The kitten watched him while he got dressed and when he had finished, he took out the Koran.
"What is the Day of Noise and Clamor? And what will explain to thee what the Day of Noise and Clamor is? It is a Day whereon men will be like moths scattered about, and the mountains will be like carded wool. Then, he whose balance of good deeds will be found heavy, will be in a life of good pleasure and satisfaction. But he whose balance of good deeds will be found light will have his home in a bottomless Pit. And what will explain to thee what this is? It is a Fire blazing fiercely!"
He put the book away. He had studied the Koran extensively, but he did not believe in God. He just liked to pretend that a higher power existed. Now he had read that a punishment awaited him for everything he had done. It was a pit of burning fire. He did not believe in that either and that was a relief, but he told
himself that he was atoning in his own way by repeatedly exposing himself to the violent threats in the Koran.
Axel picked him up in the Mercedes.
He was wearing a well-cut suit and a plum-colored shirt, and he looked Reilly up and down.
"We're saying goodbye to Jon," he said. "And you look like a tramp."
Reilly looked aghast. He did not think the sweater was as bad as that, and the khaki trousers were his best pair.
"Jon would not have cared about a few creases," he muttered.
He trudged down the stairs after Axel and got into the car. From the corner of his eye he studied Axel's suit. It was charcoal with thin lapels and he also wore a long coat.
"You could have done something with your hair," Axel continued. "It's just hanging there."
He leaned forward to see what Reilly was wearing on his feet.
"You haven't even got laces in your shoes," he pointed out. "Why not?"
"They snapped," Reilly said. He fumbled with the seat belt.
"It's about time you took a good look at yourself in the mirror," Axel said.
"I haven't got one," Reilly said.
"You must have one in your bathroom?"
"It broke."
"And how did you manage that?"
"I don't remember exactly. I must have been high. I don't have to account for every minute of the day," he added, a little hurt because Axel was pinpointing his bad habits.
Nothing more was said. They drove on in silence and Reilly watched people through the car windows. Each and every one of them was going somewhere, yet it looked as if they were all lost. As if they did not know the streets and were complete strangers to the town.
"It would be very odd," he said out loud, "if there's no purpose behind it all. Life. And us."
"Don't start all that," Axel said.
"But think about snowflakes," Reilly said. "And the northern lights."
"They're beautiful," Axel said,
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