This is the final section.
The next morning was a difficult one for the tallest man. It was all he could do simply to rouse himself: the heavy layer of melancholy he had been living in seemed to have thickened overnight, leaving a leaden weight somewhere inside his chest. Nevertheless, he got up and had breakfast, loitering in his bedroom for a few minutes in hopes of figuring out a plan.
His wife surprised him by sitting up in bed.
The tallest man had barely spoken to her for weeks, and he was no longer used to it. He looked down and said nothing.
(Continued after the jump.)