À Ơn wasn’t the kind of person that people easily took to. He was a bit pompous, spoke too loudly, was too severe – his demeanour certainly didn’t match his crippled body. But he was a good friend. I’d never betray him. Getting to know him – well, it was as though time patiently peeled back the layers. All those things that made him dislikeable were soon shorn away, and what was left – well, there was no way you could not like him. I became really quite fond of him. I still am, even though he should not have cried like that when I died. But I guess he didn’t have much choice. Who told me to die next to him … I imagine if our situations had been reversed, I’d have cried like he did. I was very fond of him. I didn’t know at the time that those dying didn’t like to see those closest to them wail as À Ơn did: this was something I learnt after I died.

But what À Ơn said was right: it was the first little thing that killed me. It’s been almost half a century now, but I still remember that day. It was winter – winter again! And you should appreciate this fact, for it was ten years before that, during winter, that I had first become ill, when I had first drawn close to death’s door. That season, winter, seemed to toll the death knell for me …

That evening was the same as every other … With my radio in hand, I had gone to bed. The loneliness of this assignment had made me grow attached to listening to the radio – without it I’d have never been able to get to sleep. Because I always scanned the airwaves for a female voice, À Ơn had often made fun of me, saying that I wasn’t holding onto a radio at all, but rather my ideal woman. Perhaps he was right … I just don’t know. I didn’t understand women; I still don’t. I don’t know what I think about them. I mean, there were times that I thought about them a lot, and then at other times I didn’t think about them at all. Hmm … let’s not talk about them right now, shall we? I’ll have more to say later: let’s concentrate on that night. Crawling into bed with my radio, I couldn’t help but feel that something wasn’t right. My head felt heavy, befuddled, and I was so cold. I told À Ơn about it, to which he replied, ‘Hey, on such a cold wintry night, after a cold shower, who’d think it was warm? I’d find it chilly myself.’

‘But I think I’m running a fever,’ I said.