The First Day of Winter She covered the bathroom floor with a drop cloth, draped it over the tub, the toilet, the sink, tucked it into the spool of the toilet paper holder, and started painting. The room was dingy gray in all the corners, with old water stains molding above the shower. It was her new apartment and this was her new town, but she hadn’t even seen any of it yet, except the neighborhood grocery and the paint store in the row of shops down the street. And she hadn

“The most tragic thing is a man who comes from and ends in nothing.” was the last line of the story, and when he finished reading it, he turned it over in his hand and started again. He was frustrated. It shouldn’t have to end that way.