s strictly for personal consumption。
Hallorann stopped in the turn lane at the Vermont Street light； and when the
green arrow showed he pulled out onto state highway 219； pushing up to forty and
holding it there until the town began to trickle away into an exurban sprawl of
gas stations； Burger Kings； and McDonalds。 It was a small order today； he could
have sent Baedecker after it； but Baedecker had been chafing for his chance to
buy the meat； and besides； Hallorann never missed a chance to bang it back and
forth with Frank Masterton if he could help it。 Masterton might show up tonight
to watch some TV and drink Hallorann's Bushmill's； or he might not。 Either way
was all right。 But seeing him mattered。 Every time it mattered now； because they
weren't young anymore。 In the last few days it seemed he was thinking of that
very fact a great deal。 Not so young anymore； when you got up near sixty years
old （or tell the truth and save a lie — past it） you had to start thinking about
stepping out。 You could go anytime。 And that had been on his mind this week； not
in a heavy way but as a fact。 Dying was a part of living。 You had to keep tuning
in to that if you expected to be a whole person。 And if the fact of your own
death was hard to understand； at least it wasn't impossible to accept。
Why this should have been on his mind he could not have said； but his other
reason for getting this small order himself was so he could step upstairs to the
small office over Frank's Bar and Grill。 There was a lawyer up there now （the
dentist who had been there last year had apparently gone broke）； a young black
fellow named McIver。 Hallorann had ste