your daily dose of david sedaris.

“You can at least move your hands,” he said.

“No,” I told him, “it was the wind that moved them. I have no muscle control whatsoever.”

“Liar.”

“Well, that’s a nice thing to say to someone who’ll probably die during the night. Thanks a lot, pal.”

At such times you have to wonder how things got to this point. You meet someone and fall in love; then umpteen years later you’re lying on the floor in a foreign country, promising, hoping, as a matter of principle, that you’ll be dead by sunrise. “I’ll show you,” I moaned, and then I must have fallen back to sleep.