After two stories by Bernard Kaplan

Edgar Pesach, the obituary writer, is on the roof of the Lincoln Plaza
Apartments. It is a deep autumn Sukkoth night.
The Philharmonic plays tonight—Boccherini, or Brahms?
Outside the ticket-box five women in draping, I6th Century, masculine
Furs stand and talk. They are in shadows, and their furs make
Their sholders larger than life, at least, for the moment.
Edgar Pesach