The Ferryman's Dilemma
ACT I: THE MAN WHO COULD SEE THEM The first time James Callahan saw one of them, he thought he was having a stroke. It was a Tuesday in November, raining in that particular way Chicago rains in late autumn—steady and indifferent, like a faucet left slightly open. James was delivering flowers to St. Ignatius Hospice on the South Side, a job he took after the church stopped paying his stipend. He...
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