The next day I went in to work, although I don't know why. I knew that this was It, and everyone else knew it too. But it seemed right to go back to work, end of the world or not. Most of my adult life had been bound up in that store, and I wanted a day more with it. I had some idea of getting my affairs in order, although I knew it couldn't matter. The subway ride was murderous. New York is always a crowded city, but it seemed as though the whole United States had moved in. The subways were so tightly jammed the doors couldn't even close. When I finally got out, the streets were filled from one curb to the other. Traffic had given up, and people were piling out of cars and buses anywhere they were stopped, adding to the jam in the streets. In the store, Frank and Minnie were already there. I guess they had the same idea--about gathering up loose ends. "Gee, Mr. Ostersen," Frank said. "What do you think He'll do--about our sins, I mean?" Frank was twenty-one, and I couldn't see how he could have committed an unusual number of sins. But he was worried about them. The way he frowned and paced around, he might have been the devil himself. Minnie didn't have any sins on her mind, as far as I could see. She was wearing what must have been her best dress--she hadn't bought it in my store--and her hair was a lighter brown than it had been yesterday. I suspected she wanted to look her best in front of the Almighty, be He man or woman. We talked about sins most of the morning, and listened to the radio. The radio had a lot to say about sins, but no two speakers agreed. Around lunchtime, Ollie Bernstein dropped in. "Hiya, ex-competitor," he said, standing in the doorway. "How's business?" "I sold five dozen halos," I told him. "How's with you?" "What's it matter?" he asked, coming sideways through the doorway. "Four days before Judgment, who cares? Come have lunch with me, ex-competitor." Ollie and I had never been on really friendly terms. We sold the same price line, and our stores were too close for mutual comfort. Also, he was fat and I've always been suspicious of fat men. But suddenly, I found myself liking him. It seemed a shame I hadn't recognized his solid qualities years ago. We went to Lotto's, a classy place on East 73rd Street. We had hoped to avoid some of the crowd by going uptown, but there wasn't a chance of it. Lotto's was packed, and we stood three-quarters of an hour for a table. Seated, we ordered roast duck, but had to settle for hamburger steak. The waiter told us people had been walking in and ordering roast duck all morning. Lotto's had a radio--probably for the first time in its existence--and a minister or rabbi was speaking. He was interrupted by a news announcement.