“Yes. The Mortkowitz funeral. I remember now. That was definitely yesterday.” Then, as if I’d suddenly turned radioactive, he spun on his heels and rushed away, leaving me to simmer in the soup of my bewilderment and humiliation. I felt that everyone was now looking at me, happy to have their attention momentarily diverted from a dead loved one to a living fool.
– from “The Funeral” by Siegfried Mortkowitz, a personal essay, just out in B O D Y’s Summer Issue.
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