In and around comics, as usual, I’ve been reading a short story collection, which is I suppose rather less usual. Honestly[1], it happens within a rounding error of once per published Stephen King short story collection. Which, in this case, was You Like It Darker.

The belle of the ball was the novella length story about the guy who dreamed of where a dead body was located, found it, and then (to his lasting regret) reported it. Several of the others washed right over me and have since receded, while there was only one miss, the one about the weird kid who has an unhealthy relationship with his dying grandfather.

Most of the rest[2] are King writing his way through aging and death. (Well, death via aging, I mean. Obviously he’s never had a problem writing about death. Really, now.) But where he used to write about young and then middle-aged protagonists, he is now clearly reaching a stage where his focus is a bit further down the road. Which is both meaningful to me, since I’m at an age where the people a generation above me are all long retired, and have started to die, but also distressing, since I’m not ready for a world without next year’s King novel.[3]

All the same, that year is coming.

[1] At least, counting after college
[2] Rattlesnakes, The Answer Man, Laurie, and to be fair Willie the Weirdo qualifies here as well. As do some of the ones that washed over me and already receded.
[3] This is not not a metaphor for the many other things that I’m not ready to happen. But it’s definitely not just a metaphor for that, either.