The Folks could be riding their bikes down the avenue heading to their next appointment, and a Folk standing on the street corner sees them & shouts with a knowing grin: "Is he dead yet?!"
Or out on the path, a passing Folk repeats the question and walks on with a smile pasted on their satisfied face. Oh my. It's all happening.
The quesiton cuts to the bone. It saves brain cells. It bypasses all those tortured conversations about all the shite that is going down.
