What Happens Next

On the first Tuesday of November, there was a sixth chair in Room 4.

Peter Lund arrived at six fifty, with his walking stick and a guitar case on his back, because, he said, he had not been inside that room without a guitar since 1983. Dolores met him at the front door. She looked at him for a long moment, then took his arm and walked him down the corridor very slowly, as if he was made of glass. Then she gave him four cookies, which was a record.

When the others arrived, he was already sitting by the window, touching the radiator with his hand.

"It's the same one," he said to nobody in particular. "Time flies. But radiators don't."

The radiator knocked twice, as if it recognized him.