The man is watching somebody cry on TV. He likes to watch people cry. He is interested to see how they do it.

This has been a good week for crying. Parents have lost young children; either the children have died – tragically, innocently, at the hands of some unspeakable monster – or they have gone missing. Sometimes they go missing and then die. Sometimes they go missing and are found several days later, which is almost as good. If children go missing and are found but for some reason cannot be reunited with their parents then the crying can go for weeks.

People have lost money as well. They have lost their homes and their savings. They have lost everything they worked for. They have lost faith in the system. Men and women cry as much as each other, but middle-aged people cry a lot more than old people. Young people cry as well but that doesn’t count. Nobody enjoys seeing children cry. They do it all the time.

Most people prefer to cry at home in close-up, although some people cry in public as well. If somebody famous dies, whole crowds of people can be seen crying. They cry and beat themselves. They cry until they are overcome with crying and have to be carried away. Teenage girls sometimes cry like this too. Sports people cry when they win and cry when they lose. A whole team will cry together or individual players will cry at random. Occasionally a politician cries in public but not for long.

Of course, people cry a lot during times of war, famine and natural disaster but that’s perfectly normal. It’s not like real crying at all. It’s hardly worth watching.

Death is still the biggest cause of crying. There are many familiar ways of dying – war, famine and natural disaster – but people are always finding new ways as well. Having found one, everything possible is done to avoid it while people get used to the idea of dying that way. Then it becomes just another option and is ranked alongside all the other major causes. It is difficult to tell how many ways of dying there are; the list seems endless. Sometimes an old way of dying dies out, only to be resurrected at a later date.

One night the man wakes – but had he really been asleep? He remembers watching something on television but cannot remember what it was. Perhaps he only dreamt it. He is lying on his back on the sitting room floor and the room is starting to spin. Whoa! Whoa! shouts the man but no sound comes out. His body feels paralysed, tingling with pins and needles like a limb that has gone to sleep. The light of the television screen is just inches away but he is unable to move his head to see it. He tries to will his body to move, to lift an arm or roll over towards the television, but nothing happens.

The man wonders if he is dying. The thought of dying makes him feel sad and scared but it also excites him. It is a new experience, one that opens up all sorts of possibilities. He no longer has to think about how or when it might happen; he knows for real now. He is happy to give up the rest of his life in exchange for knowing that he is finally going to die.

For a long time, he had imagined that he might be knocked over while crossing the road and had tried to prepare himself for the occasion, carefully observing every car that passed in case it should turn out to be the one. And just in case it was, he made sure that his affairs were in order so as to avoid too many loose ends. The thought of planning for the future disturbed him. He deliberately avoided becoming involved in long-term projects that might remain unfinished. Now that he is actually dying, he feels satisfied with what he has achieved. There is nothing outstanding in his life.

The man decides to relax and fully enjoy the experience of dying. He focuses on what is happening, the feeling of detachment and absolute solitude, and tries to determine the extent to which he is still alive or already dead. He lies there for what seems like an eternity. Feeling slightly bored, he tries to move his head again. If only he could watch the television while waiting to die. That would make it a much more interesting experience. It’s no use though. The man lies and waits for the end.

Suddenly, he remembers the woman. Why hadn’t he thought of her before? How will she feel, returning from a hard night of cleaning to find him dead on the floor? What a mess. She deserves an explanation. He must stay alive long enough to tell her what is happening. It’s the least he can do.

And so the man starts to try and stay alive. He knows exactly what to do, having seen people on television talk about their near-death experiences and how they managed to keep themselves alive by focusing on what was happening all around them. It’s simply a matter of will-power.

The man listens for any sound. A dog barks. A plane takes off. That’s good. A car passes by outside. He forces himself to breathe, to keep his heart beating, his blood pumping. He starts to recite the weekly TV schedule in his head, trying to keep his brain active.

It’s no use though. The harder the man tries to stay alive, the faster he seems to slip away. His breathing becomes laboured, his eyelids feel leaden; just beyond his line of vision, he can sense something dark and heavy closing in on him. A feeling of constriction creeps up his body; there is pressure on his stomach, his chest is being squeezed, something is poking at his throat with a stick...

The man closes his eyes and waits for the final moment to arrive. At the last instant, when he feels he is about to go under, he opens his eyes and sees two shining lights floating in front of his face like twin yellow moons. As he watches, the lights begin to narrow and fade from view. This is it, thinks the man, I’m going, going, going...

The black cat sits and blinks.