byThe g*n’s mouth gaped at him. Then it spoke. Leaden words.
The boy had no choice but to listen.
Only afterwards would there be a chance to answer.
The interview takes place in the subject’s tiny apartment.
“Like the old song says, I only think of him on two occasions: day, and night. Lazzrus is—” The woman pauses and shifts, settling deeper into the sofa, seeking comfort and the right word. “—was? Hard for me to think of him being dead, despite I saw those wounds he got. But he—was—special.”
Yes. The question is whether the subject knows exactly how special.
howThrough the thin wall dividing the subject’s apartment from the neighbor’s, Polly Wilson, CUNY advanced degree candidate in sociocultural anthropology, hears wild applause. She checks her wrist: nineteen minutes have passed
