
Douglas Stuart Reads “Found Wanting”
The New Yorker: The Writer's Voice - New Fiction from The New Yorker
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Weak Eyes Are for Old Women, Not Young Men
I didn't wear my glasses to dinner. Weak eyes were for old women, not young men. And i worried about squinting unattractively at the menu. The waiter was not much older than me. He had the refined accent of the university students who came to glasgow and thought it a magical place full of gothic spires,. But it was a city he could leave whenever he liked, and eventually he would.
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