When I went to buy the menu collector's books, he
just kept talking about how he was going to die right
in that room someday soon.
I said nothing, let my co worker respond to him while
he emphatically repeated DIE HERE as his canary sat
on his hand & softly whistled.
I should've said something because my coworker was
remarkably unsympathetic. The guy had great books,
too - Willeford manuscripts, signed novels by authors
he'd gone to meet... he was a real collector. Of menus
and books.
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