I settle on the Unsung one but add And Thus the Heart of the World Is Broken. Love, B. Rosenberger Rosenberg. I hire a photographer to document the funeral. I know I’ll be alone there with the hired Baptist minister (Ingo must’ve been a Baptist!) and this will put me in good stead down the road, cementing our connection in the mind of the public. I am Brod now. I am Brod, my entire life mapped out: executor, biographer, analyst, confidant, emergency contact. Friend. I schedule the funeral for a day during which a torrential downpour is anticipated, the umbrellas and mud being highly cinematic, funereal, illustrative of profound grief, hardship, loneliness. In addition, it will not be difficult for me to appear grief-stricken on the day, not only because I will be, but tears do not always come for me, even though I have taken several acting for directors classes, two acting for critics classes, and one acting for audiences class. With the rain, my face will be wet and I don’t have to worry about verisimilitude. I rent a rain machine from a local film production supply house, just in case.