Here’s another — without a doubt one of my favorite short stories of all time. A tough one, to be sure, for this game. (What game?)
The word Oysters was chalked on the wagon that carried Chekhov’s body to Moscow for burial. The coffin was carried in the oyster wagon because of the fierce heat of early July.
Those were the first sentence in Eva Lindberg’s loose notes, written in a large childish hand, and she started reading them at the table again as she waited for Arvo Meri to come to the small flat….”
