Friday, January 28, 2005




Charlie was a winter person. Knit cap, big black beard, long coat, work boots, slouched against the side of the building, smoking, avoiding Jim's mailroom duties, Charlie was in his element.

Even though I was there through a few summers, I can't remember Charlie without hat, coat and boots. I have no summer picture of him.

One afternoon Charlie motioned to me as I was leaving for the day.

"What is it?" I asked.

"I know you are at that college. Do you think their library would have this book?" He gave me a piece of paper. THE LIVES OF A CELL was carefully printed out.

"Yes, they probably would," I said.

"Can you get it for me?" Charlie asked.

"Probably," I said.

"OK," I said. I was a little concerned Charlie wouldn't return it, or lose it, and I would be on the hook, but my worries were unfounded.

appeared here

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