Almost an Invitation
“Almost an invitation. Almost what he had wanted for three years.” “Come here, let’s drink and finally talk” — the most ordinary words, almost an invitation, almost what Simon dreamed of for three years. They arrive at the one moment when they can no longer be accepted: the powder dissolved a second earlier. Simon closes his eyes for a single heartbeat — that is all that remains of the person who once wanted simply a conversation.
Here the tragedy of the story is stated through timing: the living moment of closeness arrives too late for its own addressee. The plan that once replaced feeling (chapter ten) is now stronger than its source: even receiving what he wanted, Simon can no longer take it any way but by the script. The rhyme with “no one left to forgive” is exact: once more a step is taken toward him — and once more there is no one left to receive it.
