"I don't know. More sedative?"
"More sedative. Nerves. He needs more sleep."
They stuck the needle in his arm. Sale writhed and spat and moaned.
Then, suddenly, he was dead.
He lay there, the two men over him. "What a shame," said one of them. "Can you figure that?"
"Shock. Poor guy. What a pity." They covered his face. "Did you ever see a face like that?"
"Totally insane."
"Loneliness. Shock."
"Yes. Lord, what an expression. I hope never to see a face like that again."
"What a shame, waiting for us, and we arrive, and he dies anyway."