Like I’m telling you,” the sergeant said, “th’ kid could be anywhere. But he’s not here. So if you want to keep looking, go with the patrolman over there.”
My name is Jane Schreiber; five evenings a week I sit behind the reference desk in a west side branch of the public library and answer readers’ questions. These are mainly about the location of the public facilities. We keep both locked.
His mother cupped her palm over the mouthpiece and aimed the black receiver at his chest. “Gino,” she said in a thin reedy whisper, “you talk to him and be civil.”
I like to think of Sammy and me as living the kind of life that everyone would live if he had the chance. Some people call us bums, some call us beachcombers, some people don’t call us anything: they just look, sigh, and say, enjoy it for...
