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By Philippe Claudel, from Inhumaines, which was published by Stock earlier this year. Claudel is a novelist and filmmaker. Translated from the French by Camille Bromley.

Last night Roger Turpon, from dispatching, invited us to his suicide. There were twenty of us. Family and friends only. His wife made canapés with tarama. Or shrimp mousse. Difficult to tell them apart. Same color. Same texture. Turpon had been over it for a while. He talked about it nonstop, even in meetings. In the cafeteria too. He would be surrounded by empty seats. No one would eat at his table anymore.…

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