Nadav Spiegelman

Waste

Author
Eugene Marten
My last highlight
2023-08-02
Number of highlights
7

My Highlights

The wheelchair on the porch had lavender upholstery, pneumatic tires with mag rims, articulating legrests. The front casters reminded Sloper of baby carriage wheels. A stocky, serious-looking woman pushed the wheelchair, and you could tell she knew what she was about
Otherwise he ate it in the cafeteria. Everyone sat grouped roughly according to nationality, each table a linguistic faction. Sloper sat alone between Russian and Ethiopian, his appearances too infrequent for him to have established a place with anyone else
For some reason he suffered chronic bouts of compulsive throat-clearing on 24, as if in preface to the great pronouncement of his life
Sloper’s big thick body promised great strength and he resented the obligations this seemed to confer, as certain dispositions resent the burden of physical beauty
At some point he noticed she would only answer in four words or less. He asked her about the logos on the polo shirt and headband she was wearing. “Promotional,” she said. “Health care equipment
At some point he noticed she would only answer in four words or less. He asked her about the logos on the polo shirt and headband she was wearing. “Promotional,” she said. “Health care equipment.” Sloper wasn’t much of a talker but found himself rising to the challenge. Wanted to see if he could get her to do it. He started out simple, working his way up to questions and observations that actually addressed several subjects at once, to which even the most general response would have to exceed four words. After two or three of these attempts he was conversationally depleted, while the caregiver was able to stay inbounds without missing a beat, almost never resorting to contraction.
You double-tied the bag and dropped it down a chute in the core of the building, all the way down to a dumpster in the first basement. Throughout the night you could hear the chutes booming distantly, like artillery