* * * *
After discovering the mysterious and agreeable room atop Putnam’s home, I decide to read his short piece Pop! among the turtles. As Mr. Gray naps downstairs, snuggled next to the sofa in the living room with his blanket, dreaming of his running days and cheering gamblers, I sit in the swivel chair on the third floor, hold the few pages of Putnam’s tale in my hands, and read:
Pop!
1.
“It’s not supposed to end this way.” I can barely get the words out of my throat without tears collecting at the corners of my eyes. My chest shakes and my stomach feels like three stones are pushed down to my balls. I haven’t eaten anything in two days. I think I’m starting to dehydrate.
Karr—his real name is Harold Karring, but everyone who knows him, his closest friends like me, his mom, his dad
