Killing Commendatore: A novel

One of a teacher’s important duties is to get children to be genuinely impressed.

“I wish you a safe journey,” Long Face said to me. “I hope you can find What’s-her-name. Was it Komichi?” “No, her name isn’t Komichi,” I said. A chill ran down my spine. My throat turned to sandpaper. I couldn’t speak for a moment. “The name was Mariye Akikawa. Do you know something about Komichi?” “No, I know nothing at all.” Long Face seemed to

“But fear is in my heart as well,” I said. “That’s what worries me. That my fear will distort what I see and push me in the wrong direction.”

In the silence of the woods it felt like I could hear the passage of time, of life passing by. One person leaves, another appears. A thought flits away and another takes its place. One image bids farewell and another one appears on the scene. As the days piled up, I wore out, too, and was remade. Nothing stayed still. And time was lost. Behind me,

“That is because they are within you,” said Donna Anna. “They grab hold of your true thoughts and feelings and devour them one after another, fattening themselves. That is what Double Metaphors are. They have been dwelling in the depths of your psyche since ancient times.”

When it came down to it, though, could anything be completely correct, or completely incorrect? We lived in a world where rain might fall thirty percent, or seventy percent, of the time. Truth was probably no different.

“It’s all up to you. It’s not like you’re being asked to sell your soul or anything. You’re a very skilled portrait painter, and they’re counting on that skill.” “I feel like a retired hit man in the mob,” I said. “Like I’m being asked to whack one more target.” “Though no blood’s going to be shed. What do you say—will you do it?” No blood’s going

AT THIS POINT IT’S MERELY A HYPOTHESIS

I wished I could have told Mariye that the clothes that had protected her from that something had been worn by her late mother before she married. But I couldn’t. I didn’t have the right. Neither did the Commendatore. There was but one person in the world who did, and that was Menshiki. But he would never exercise it. We all live our lives carrying