It took him about ten strides to reach me, and when he got there, he let his award hang forgotten in one hand, like the coolest of cool guys. The whole room was watching, and now flashes were going off. I glanced down at the award. “Another award for the drawer?” But Charlie, never taking his eyes off mine, shook his head. “There is no more awards drawer.” I waited for clarification. “I took them all out, one by one, and polished them, and apologized to them, and put them on a shelf, like a person determined to be grateful for his blessings. And I even glued the angel’s broken wing back on.”
