I WAS in my third year in university and having tea with a group of friends one Saturday morning when Malick Natarajan, an economics senior, came up and informed us breathlessly that Elvis had died.
We were stunned. I mean, the guy was only 42 and people don’t just keel over at that age. Apparently, he had. And on the bathroom seat while he was at it, which is a rather depressing way to go given the circumstances. On the other hand, is there ever a happy way to go?
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