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Chapter 39

“He clearly remembers you, too.”

“Good thing,” I said. “Because none of the others know me. He’s the last of them. I can tell; the rest of them don’t smell familiar.” A lone tear dripped from my eye. It was followed by another. The last of them, the last of my family. How was that possible? It’d only been eleven years. Life must’ve been hard for him, for them. I realized then that I shouldn’t kvetch so much all the time; things could be so much worse. I also realized that I was speaking Yiddish, as Craig had noted. Oy vey. And no, I wasn’t taking Talmudic studies in college. And yes, I’d picked it up from Doug, who was Scottish/Irish and Midwestern, so where he picked it up from was a mystery.

“You know,” Doug said, “I was just thinking.”

“About?” I was scratching my brother’s ear. His hind leg kicked at the air as if he was running some sort of invisible marathon.