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Ad Infinitum
Proclaiming he has found a cure for death, my neighbor who lives overhead displays a capsule on his palm then clenches it and turns away before I see too much. But I've already smelled the paper bags of mice he dumps into the morning trash and heard him flushing flocks of parakeets whose feathers sometimes back up in my bowl. He calls such failures "transient," predicts complete success once he has found a way to teach the dead to swallow and digest the endless life he has to offer them. The problem as he sees it simplified is death, which he must overcome in order to cure death.