The New Yorker: Fiction cover image

Aleksandar Hemon Discusses Bernard Malamud

The New Yorker: Fiction

CHAPTER

Georgey, I'm a Big Guy Now

George knew he looked passable on the outside but inside he was crumbling apart. One night unable to stent the heat anymore he burst into the street at 1 a.m. He hoped to sneak to the park without being seen but there were people all over the block wilted and listless waiting for a breeze. The next night he was afraid to leave his room and though Sophie argued with him he wouldn't open the door. When years later he opened them he saw that Mr. Katanzara had out of pity gone away but in his years he still heard the words he had said when he left.

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