// Soundtrack: Door - Liam the Younger

I walked past the house where Gary and Max had an apartment on Jewel Street. On summer nights, the front steps was a home in itself. We would sit their until the wee hours of morning smoking cigarettes, dreaming. Or laying on Gary's bed while he read out loud, pacing back and forth with his clam shell ashtray. Those memories are ageless, though fleeting. They often feel like another life entirely.

I met Harry there, in that same wisp of memory. We spent the day nursing beers in the backyard, trying not to move too much. Max grilled a mountain of Omaha Steaks his dad sent him in lieu of seeing him for his birthday and the density of red meat and beer made me sleepy as hell. I blinked and it was night time. I told Harry I'd drive him back to Brighton on account of it being 3 a.m. and me having nothing better to do. I remember getting on the parkway before realizing I couldn't keep my eyes open. I don't think he realized how scared I was of killing the both of us.

When we got to Brighton, I parked the car at the end of Coney Island Avenue and we both took off down the beach. We ran like maniacs, I don't think I'd ever felt that free in my life. We tore our clothes off as we came close to the water and dove in once it hit our knees. It must have looked insane to see the two of us howling with life, laughing like lunatics, swimming in the middle of the night in Brooklyn. We got back to the car and sat on the hood while Harry rolled us smokes. 

I'm older now, it's colder now. And I sure do miss those days.