Hanging out in the house of the old man who commited suicide.

(from Harvard Review, issue 28)

Scary, man. There’s a very cinematically spooky moment, and some other, smaller, less meaningful ones, that make this a kind of wide-eyed ghost story. I don’t want to spoil it.
I like the unique way the characters speak to each other, sort of melodramatic and weighty. The narration is that way too, fearless in its intellectual and abstract ponderings. Check it:
My mother once told me that people sleep to dream their lives all over again, so perhaps Vinh’s dream was one of imminence, his brother’s death merely the finality to a loss he had accepted long ago.
See, it’s like that a lot. But also engaging and surprising.