the-mysteries-of-pittsburgh

Michael Chabon

Michael Chabon goes up to the counter and orders an iced coffee. It makes sense to him. It’s cold outside and his drink should be, too. A shiver passes through him. He stares at his palm, where he’s incoherently diagrammed a series of complex chess moves. A bell tower in the distance strikes three times. His short, hairy companion lopes out into the street. The seventh-inning stretch is about to end.

“When the dream of that summer ended, I awoke. 

I remember the roar of Cleveland’s motorcycle, the scuff of his boots on the stone walk, and the way his eyes looked just before he told a joke.

I remember Jane’s smile, her quiet strength, and the way my heart leapt at her touch.

I remember my friends, and love them to this day.”

Drew one of my bookshelves ♥