By Ben Greenman
from forthcoming collection, as yet untitled
On Sunday, Walter Reamer, ten, on his way home from the bagel shop, fell in with, around noon, his best friend Simon, going from the skate park to his grandparents’ house (to rake their leaves), in quite a compromised state, having tweaked his ankle, skinned his shin, bruised his elbow, and so forth. Walter took him in tow, and brought him to his house. By one, Simon was sitting on a comfortable couch with Walter and his parents watching what was, for Simon, a new comedy, though the Reamers had seen it enough times to preview all the jokes before they happened, a practice they refrained from after Walter asked them to let his friend have a chance to discover them on his own. By two Simon’s parents had arrived to take him home and further administer his recovery.
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