fwriction

I am tempted to make this the Story of the Week, rather than the day, so as to encourage repeated readings. It is truly worth it.

When I got to the end of this story, I found myself unable to move on. In fact, I was riding the subway at the time, and I allowed the N train to take me a few extra stops.

As a result of finishing this collection, I’m now reading Salter’s A Sport and a Pastime. I expect many quotes will be posted.

For today (and over and over afterwards), please enjoy James Salter’s “Last Night,” the title story from his brilliantly spare collection:

“She was tired when they reached the house. They sat together in the living room as if they had come from a big party but were not quite ready for bed. Walter was thinking of what lay ahead, the light that would come on in the refrigerator when the door was opened. The needle of the syringe was sharp, the stainless-steel point cut at an angle and like a razor. He was going to have to insert it into her vein. He tried not to dwell on it. He would manage somehow. He was becoming more and more nervous.”

(Serious, amazing, waffle-rocking bonus: Thomas McGuane reads James Salter’s short story, “Last Night,” for The New Yorker fiction podcast.)