Chapter 50: Cosmic LatteDear Joey,
It’s late afternoon, and in the living room window, the sun is like a spiral of white gold shining dimly behind the veil of the sky. I love winter sunsets. So gentle, they are. I used to hate the cold, the long days of waiting for spring to come, but as I grow older, I find myself complaining about the heat in the summer and the incessant noise of the city, the mad world the Old Port quarter turns into as soon as June begins.
Do you remember how as a child I used to live for those two precious summer months?
Summer meant days and days of riding my bike with Boone near the river, behind the auditorium. He used to ride that BMX bike like he was made out of rubber. And those days were followed by evenings of watching movies in his basement, sitting there
