Later

by Stephen King

“Okay, but…is Liz really not your friend anymore?” Mom used a dishtowel to wipe her face. “I don’t think she’s been my friend for quite awhile now. I just didn’t know it. Now get ready for school.”

Tell you what, the worst part of growing up is how it shuts you up.

mother refused to use Uber. She said they weren’t New York. Taxis were New York.

She nodded. “He is, and there aren’t many of his kind left. To rush to the bedside of a dying friend at his age…” She shook her head. “Remarkable. Admirable. And that email!” “Professor Burkett doesn’t write emails,” I said. “He writes letters.”