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FIVE

H ow long is a minute? Just sixty seconds? Why do some minutes feel so much longer? Why do some feel so much shorter? A minute, is it mutable? The way it bends, twists, folds over on itself. Is it a minute or is it an hour? Is it a day, a week, a lifetime? Forward is backward and now is later and present is past and the boy is real and the boy is not real and it doesn’t really matter, does it? It’s all the same. All you need is to sit here on the edge of this curb, with your sneakers in the gutter and your head between your knees, just for a minute, and everything will fall back into place. There’s nothing to fear here, not in this minute. Nothing to worry about. Nothing to long for, nothing to miss. He’ll be back, or he won’t. It makes no difference. You just need a minute (a day, a week, a lifetime) and everything will make sense again. That’s all you need, Eddie. Just a minute. That’s all.