This is the writer's voice, new fiction from The New Yorker.

I'm Deborah Trisman, fiction editor at The New Yorker.

On this episode of The Writer's Voice, we'll hear Jonas Hassan Kamiri read his story,

as you would have told it to me, sort of, if we had known each other before you died.

From the September 25th, 2017 issue of the magazine.

Cameri is a Swedish playwright and novelist whose work has been translated into more than 20 languages.

His most recent novel, Everything I Don't Remember, was published in the U.S. last year.

Now here's Jonas Hassan Kamiri.

As you would have told it to me, sort of, if we had known each other before you died.

I remember that it was fall, and that it was a weekend,

and that I was sitting at home drinking apple juice and half watching a rerun of a debate program.

My neighbor across the courtyard had bought a new TV,

and he was watching the same channel.

It felt nice somehow that we were sitting on our respective sides of the courtyard and, I don't know, sharing something.

I hadn't spoken with Katya in three days, but I was a word. It was like that between us sometimes.

Soon she would call and we'd meet up and everything would be back to normal.

We had gone through worse things.

Around lunchtime, the doorbell rang.

I turned off the TV.

Across the courtyard, the debate program was still on. The local politician raised his

brow, the average mom shook her head. The host looked surprised. The doorbell rang again.

Once, twice. I sat perfectly still.

...