From Concerning the Future of Souls, which will be published this month by Tin House.

He hadn’t felt well when he woke up that morning but this was the case almost every morning. He would feel uneasy, even ashamed. He had been somewhere and he knew not where. Now existence was starting up again. It was incomprehensible. He grew calmer as the day progressed. Now it was almost evening and he was in his little garden with his dog and a glass of Scotch. The dog accepted an ice cube as was customary. There was a thicket in the corner and the dog barked at it briefly like he always did. He did not like it. The man sipped his Scotch and looked about them, for the moment content. He thought of the story of the two monks sitting in a garden much like this one. After a long and pleasant silence, one of them broke into loud laughter. He pointed across the lawn and said “They call that a tree” whereupon the other monk began to laugh as well.

The old man chuckled recalling this and gazing down at his dear dog said “You’re going to like this shampoo, it gets rid of flicks and teas.” He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth knowing with violent assurance that it wasn’t at all what he ultimately would have wanted to say.