mean? Over." "Well, they always seem to run out. Everyone's

mean? Over." "Well, they always seem to run out. Everyone's always rushing at the end, and sometimes even burning their fingers. Over." "I'm not very smart," she said, insulting herself like she always does before she gives an opinion, "but I think the matches are short so they can fit in your pocket. Over." "Yeah," I said, balancing my chin on my hand, and my elbow on the windowsill. "I think that, too. So what if pockets were a lot bigger? Over." "Well, what do I know, but I think he people might have a hard time reaching the bottoms of them if they went much lower. Over." "Right," I said, witching hands, because that one was getting tired, "so what about a portable pocket? Over." "A portable pocket? ver." "Yeah. It would be sort of like a sock, but with a Velcro outside, so you could attach it to anything. It's not quite a bag, because it actually becomes part of what you're wearing, but it's not quite a pocket either, because it's on the outside of your clothes, and also you can remove it, which would have all sorts of advantages, like how you could move things from one outfit to another easily, and how you could carry bigger things around, since you can take the pocket off and reach your arm all the way in. Over." She put her hand against the part of her nightgown that covered her heart and said, "That sounds like one hundred dollars. Over." "A portable pocket would prevent a lot of finger burns from short matches," I said, "but also a lot of dry lips from short ChapSticks. And why are candy bars so short, anyway? I mean, have you ever finished a candy bar and not wanted more? Over." "I can't eat chocolate," she said, "but I understand what ou're telling me. Over." "You could have longer combs, so your part could be all the way straight, and bigger mencils--" Mencils?" "Pencils for men." "Yes, yes." "And bigger mencils that are easier to hold, in case your fingers are fat, like ine, and you could probably even train the birds that save you to take shiitakes in the portable pocket--" "I don't nderstand." "On your birdseed shirt." "Oskar? Over." "I'm OK. Over." "What's wrong, darling? Over." "What do you mean what's wrong? Over." "What's wrong? ver." "I miss Dad. Over." "I miss him, too. Over." "I miss him a lot. Over." "So do I. Over." "All the time. Over." "All the ime. Over." I couldn't explain to her that I missed him more, more than she or anyone else missed him, because I ouldn't tell her about what happened with the phone. That secret was a hole in the middle of me that every happy thing ell into. "Did I ever tell you about how Grandpa would stop and pet every animal he saw, even if he was in a rush? Over?" "You've told me a googolplex times. Over." "Oh. And what about how his hands were so rough and red from all of his sculptures that sometimes I joked to him that it was really the sculptures that were sculpting his hands? Over." "That, too. But you can tell me again if you want. Over." She told me again. n ambulance drove down the street between us, and I imagined who it was carrying, and what had happened to him. id he break an ankle attempting a hard trick on his skateboard? Or maybe he was dying from third-degree burns on ninety percent of his body? Was there any chance that I knew him? Did anyone see the ambulance and wonder if it was me inside? What about a device that knew everyone you knew? So when an ambulance went down the street, a big sign on the roof ould flash DON'T WORRY! DON'T WORRY! f the sick person's device didn't detect the device of someone he knew nearby. and if the device did detect the device of someone he knew, the ambulance could flash the name of the person in the ambulance, and either IT'S NOTHING MAJOR! IT'S NOTHING MAJOR! or, if it was something major, IT'S MAJOR! IT'S MAJOR! And maybe you could rate the people you knew by how much you loved them, so if the device of the person in the ambulance detected the device of the person he loved the most, or the person who loved him the most, and the person in the ambulance was really badly hurt, and might even die, the ambulance could flash GOODBYE! I LOVE YOU! GOODBYE! I LOVE YOU! One thing that's nice to think about is someone who was the first person on lots of people's lists, so that when he was dying, and his ambulance went down the streets to the hospital, the whole time it would flash GOODBYE! I LOVE YOU! GOODBYE! I LOVE YOU! "Grandma? Over?" "Yes, darling? Over?" "If Grandpa was so great, then why did he leave? Over." She took a little step back so that she disappeared into her apartment. "He didn't want to leave. He had to leave. Over." "But why did he have to leave? Over." "I don't know. Over." "Doesn't that make you angry? Over." "That he left? Over." "That you don't know why. Over." "No. Over." "Sad? Over." "Sure. Over." "Hold on," I said, and I ran back to my field kit and grabbed Grandpa's camera. I brought it to the window and took a picture of her window. The lash lit up the street between us. 10. Walt 9. Lindy 8. Alicia Grandma said, "I hope you never love anything as much as I love you. Over." 7. Farley 6. The Minch / Toothpaste (tied) . Stan I could hear her kissing her fingers and then blowing. 4. Buckminster 3. Mom I blew her a kiss back. 2. Grandma "Over and out," one of us said. 1. Dad We need much bigger pockets, I thought as I lay in bed, counting off the seven minutes that it takes a normal person to fall asleep. We need enormous pockets, pockets big enough for our families, and our friends, and even the people who ren't on our lists, people we've never met but still want to protect. We need pockets for boroughs and for cities, a ocket that could hold the universe. Eight minutes thirty-two seconds... But I knew that there couldn't be pockets that enormous. In the end, everyone loses everyone. There was no invention to et around that, and so I felt, that night, like the turtle that everything else in the universe was on top of. Twenty-one minutes eleven seconds... As for the key, I put it on the string next to my apartment key and wore it like a pendant. s for me, I was awake for hours and hours. Buckminster curled up next to me, and I conjugated for a while so I wouldn't ave to think about things. I woke up once in the middle of the night, and Buckminster's paws were on my eyelids. He must have been feeling my ightmares. MY FEELINGS   12 September 2003 ear Oskar, am writing this to you from the airport. have so much to say to you. I want to begin at the beginning, because that is what you deserve. I want to tell you verything, without leaving out a single detail. But where is the beginning? And what is everything? am an old woman now, but once I was a girl. It's true. I was a girl like you are a boy. One of my chores was to bring in the ail. One day there was a note addressed to our house. There was no name on it. It was mine as much as anyone's, I hought. I opened it. Many words had been removed from the text by a censor. 14 January 1921 To Whom Shall Receive This Letter: y name is XXXXXXX XXXXXXXXX, and I am a XXXXXXXX in Turkish Labor Camp XXXXX, Block XX. I know that I am lucky XX X XXXXXXX to be alive at all. I have chosen to write to you without knowing who you are. My parents XXXXXXX XXX. My brothers and sisters XXXXX XXXX, the main XXXXXX XX XXXXXXXX! I have written XXX XX XXXXX XXXXXXX every day since I have been here. I trade bread for postage, but have not yet received a response. Sometimes it comforts me to think that they do not mail the letters we write. XXX XX XXXXXX, or at least XXX XXXXXXXXX? XX XXXXX X XX throughout XXXXX XX. XXX XXX XX XXXXX, and XXXXX XX XXXXX XX XXX, without once XXX XX XXXXXX, XXX XXXXXXXX XXX XXXXX nightmare? XXX XXX, XX XXXXX XX XXXXX XX! XXXXX XX XXX XX XXX XX XXXXXX to write a few words to me I would appreciate it more than you ever could know. Several of the XXXXXX XXXX received mail so I know that XX XX XXXXXXXX. Please include a picture of yourself as well as your name. Include everything. With great hopes, Sincerely I am, XXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXX I took the letter straight to my room. I put it under my mattress. I never told my father or mother about it. For weeks I was awake all night wondering. Why was this man sent to a Turkish labor camp? Why had the letter come fifteen years after it had been written? Where had it been for those fifteen years? Why hadn't anyone written back to him? The others got mail, he said. Why had he sent a letter to our house? How did he know the name of my street? How did he know of Dresden? Where did he learn German? What became of him? I tried to learn as much about the man as I could from the letter. The words were very simple. Bread means only bread. Mail is mail. Great hopes are great hopes are great hopes. I was left with the handwriting. So I asked my father, your great-grandfather, whom I considered the best, most kindhearted man I knew, to write a letter to me. I told him it didn't matter what he wrote about. Just write, I said. Write anything. Darling, You asked me to write you a letter, so I am writing you a letter. I do not know why I am writing this letter, or what this letter is supposed to be about, but I am writing it nonetheless, because I love you very much and trust that you have some good purpose for having me write this letter. I hope that one day you will have the experience of doing something ou do not understand for someone you love. our father hat letter is the only thing of my father's that I have left. Not even a picture. ext I went to the penitentiary. My uncle was a guard there. I was able to get the handwriting sample of a murderer. My uncle asked him to write an appeal for early release. It was a terrible trick that we played on this man. To the Prison Board: My name is Kurt Schluter. I am Inmate 24922. I was put here in jail a few years ago. I don't know how long it's been. We on't have calendars. I keep lines on the wall with chalk. But when it rains, the rain comes through my window when I am leeping. And when I wake up the lines are gone. So I don't know how long it's been. murdered my brother. I beat his head in with a shovel. Then after I used that shovel to bury him in the yard. The soil was ed. Weeds came from the grass where his body was. Sometimes at night I would get on my knees and pull them out, so o one would know. I did a terrible thing. I believe in the afterlife. I know that you can't take anything back. I wish that my ays could be washed away like the chalk lines of my days. have tried to become a good person. I help the other inmates with their chores. I am patient now.