When I was a young teenager, we once talked about nominative determinism in English class. Mr. Death made us laugh uneasily and then we fell silent. It was the last lesson of the day and of the year. After the summer break the new teacher did not know where Mr. Death had gone.
Back to school
There’s tension on the tenement stairs. None of the doors are yet open but you can feel it. Slow time passes. A snag of August rain sweeps in as the street door opens. The first silent children set off for the first day of school, faces pale, clothes for the year too baggy.
The man dragged the holdall through the playground and into the school. Nobody spoke. Later, people said he looked quite normal.