The Life of Chuck

by Stephen King

“What does that mean when he says ‘I am large, I contain multitudes’?” That made her smile perk up. She propped one small fist on her chin and looked at him with her pretty gray eyes. “What do you think it means?” “All the people he knows?” Chuck ventured. “Yes,” she agreed, “but maybe he means even more. Lean forward.” He leaned over her desk, where American Verse lay on top of her grade book. Very gently, she put her palms to his temples. They were cool. They felt so wonderful he had to suppress a shiver. “What’s in there between my hands? Just the people you know?” “More,” Chuck said. He was thinking of his mother and father and the baby he never got a chance to hold. Alyssa, sounds like rain. “Memories.” “Yes,” she said. “Everything you see. Everything you know. The world, Chucky. Planes in the sky, manhole covers in the street. Every year you live, that world inside your head will get bigger and brighter, more detailed and complex. Do you understand?”