She says, “You can’t understand, how good he was. Not sexy or funny or anything, just good.” “Sure I can. I’ve known some good people. They make you feel good.” “They make you feel everything you do and are is good. He never told me how dumb I am, every hour on the hour like you do, even though he’s much smarter than you could ever imagine. He would have gone to college, if he hadn’t been a Greek.” “Oh. Don’t they let Greeks in now? The nigger quota too big?” “You say such sick things, Harry.” “It’s because nobody tells me how good I am,” he says, and stands. The back of her neck is vulnerable
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