Aaron sits in the small yellow room on the third floor smoking a bent cigarette and listening to a scratchy recording of woodland creatures: Timberwolves, Lake Loons and Canada Geese underscored with synthesizer and the sound of rain drumming on an aluminum roof. Bertie left his collection of records spread out on the floor, fanned out on the brown carpet in alphabetical order. Aaron squints at one of the covers. A line drawing of a dirigible hovering in a white sky.
It’s a Zeppelin. You idiot. Aaron hears Bertie’s crackling voice laughing in his ear.
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