The Review of Contemporary Fiction, June 22nd, 2003
Every morning before his classes begin Frank does an hour of jogging; he feels the need to move, and also to relieve his nerves. During the day, if he does not go to the campus or into the library, he does not know where to go; therefore he runs this way or that on the hill, as many students do and also many of his colleagues. He crosses on the rustling paths of leaves. Sometimes he says hello to the others, sometimes nothing, because he has to save his breath.
The hill is entirely built up. As Frank runs he passes two-story wooden houses with yards, all different and all similar. Every so ...
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