ERRAND

In the morning she came downstairs and found him. He was dead. The television was still on, the tape he had been watching had automatically rewound and ejected itself. She kissed his brow and put her hand in his, and sat for a while. Then she stood and took the tape from the VCR and walked out to the car. It was early, but the video store would open soon. She would find something classy. Foreign, maybe. Switch the tapes, then start making the necessary calls. There was no reason for anyone to know that Raymond Carver had died watching Porky’s.