JIM IS THE MAIN TOPIC OF CONVERSATION

Jim was upstairs. I heard him rummaging, or maybe he was at his desk, looking at his damn stamp collection. When he came down, he walked through the dining room where we were all sitting without saying anything. Typical Jim. He wasn’t lost in thought or anything. He was just being unfriendly. Didn’t say goodbye. Just went outside and got in the taxi. I yelled to him to leave the door open on account of it being hot and a shaft of bright sun fell on the hallway floor. After he left we didn’t say much, but everybody was thinking the same: What’s with Jim? It seems he was always the main topic of conversation even when we weren’t talking.