"Then we heard a far-off call. We listened and nodded to each other. One two three. Pause. One two. Pause. It was the metallic squeal of a basketball on asphalt, the teenage Morse code of indolent boys that said: I AM OVER HERE. We followed the trail."
- From "Sag Harbor" by Colson Whitehead
(The nostalgic sound of summer.)
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