On Narrow Paved Paths by Dorthe Nors

“Every day from the twelfth to the nineteenth, Alice went over to see Einar. He was lying in bed more often now, which made his feet easier to get at. She removed his socks and massaged his feet, lumpy as they were, because it felt so nice, she knew it did. As she sat there at the foot of Einar’s bed and talked about her father, who’d been a dentist, about her devoted years as a schoolteacher, about her deceased husband, and about her son, who’d been sweet as a child, her fingers were busy pinching and patting. The big tom that always hung about Einar was easy enough to shoo off the bed. Then it stalked up around the bed and glowered at Alice, while up on the bed she spoke of the future. “I for instance have my funeral completely sorted,” Alice told Einar, who floated in and out of a schnapps fog. “I know precisely which songs they’ll sing,” and Einar opened an eye with difficulty and said, “But I still have long to live.””

—from “On Narrow Paved Paths” by Dorthe Nors in Wild Swims.