I like this surge, as if a part of me already wishes to run my fist through a door to prove to her how it feels, because anger fills my lungs and makes me want to puff out my chest and be a man, the way I was a man when I finally told Manfred to move out of the way because I wanted to be the one to put away Harlan’s strategic lob with a perfectly aimed overhead slam, which in fact was my proudest moment this afternoon, this day, this month, this year, especially after Manfred put both hands on his hips and, nodding approbation, said, “Wow!” That admiring and spontaneous Wow, uttered ever so
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