P. has been listening to books on tape on his daily commute to and from Big State U. an hour or so away. He'd heard 
Anna Karenina, 
Slaughterhouse Five, 
The Canturbury Tales, 
The Blind Assassin, A Tale of Two Cities, Ragtime, Dr. Norville and Mr. Strange (or is it 
Dr. Strange and Mr. N?), and 
Life of Pi so far. I'm jealous. Tonight he arrived home with tears in his eyes. I said, "What's wrong?" and it turns out it's this: Don Quixote died during the ride home.
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