
George Saunders Reads “Thursday”
The New Yorker: The Writer's Voice - New Fiction from The New Yorker
The Rearrangement of Time
"I experienced it as a click of the kind that occurs sometimes with the jaw, only it ran down the length of my spine. I turned to Clara, and she also felt it. She was gone," he writes. "And strangely, here on the game shelf was the very Chinese checker set that Clara and I had just been playing with upstairs." A standing mirror showed him no longer thirteen but six years old. He recalls saying goodbye to Mr. Pee-Dee in his basement: "We had some good times though, didn't we?"
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