We soon realized we were both 15, but Freddy looked much older. He was taller, broader, even had the beginning of a mustache. My face hadn’t even thought of such a thing. We’d met in that alley behind the big bookstore.
It wasn’t long before we were sharing my sleeping bag. His was so thin it was worthless, and winter was coming. After the first night, though, we knew we’d always want to, to hold each other, and more, until we fell asleep.
When they picked us up, we said we were brothers and begged them not to separate us.
Photo Credit: Dru Fisher
so much going on and told with such economy – thanks
Beautiful. I just finished reading The Night Watchman by Louise Erdrich, and this short story reminds me of the cold described up there in North Dakota and of the characters in her book, who are yearning for connection.