DEATH OF A SALESMAN

DEATH OF A SALESMAN

They found him sitting before the TV

Stone cold, two days after he didnít

show up for work. In his hand

the remote control and not the phone

which was right there on the table

within reach. He was forty five,

you whisper, divorced, one of

your best men, lived alone. So

you need a new salesman, I say,

totally ignoring the man and

the conversation we just finished

about maybe leaving your wife

and starting a new kind of existence.

And you say, yes, Iím a bit

at loose ends.

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