…bunny…and…decades…old…cigarette…butt…littered　concrete　floor。　He　entered　his

nerdy　bination？8/28/49；　the　birth…day　of　Goethe；　the　author　of　his　all…time　favorite　book；The

Sorrows　of　Young　Werther　？tossed　his　paper　inside；　and　grabbed　his　plastic　name　tag。

？New　York　Review　of　Books；huh？？　asked　the　blond　guy。

？What？　Yeah。？　Dan　pinned　the　cheap　red　tag　to　his　faded　black　T…shirt；　eyeing　the　stranger

suspiciously。　Dan　hadn？t　noticed　him　around　before。　Was　it　his　first　day？　Was　it　possible　that　Dan

was　no　longer　technically　？the　new　kid？？

？I？m　Greg。？　The　stranger　smiled。　？It？s　my　first　day。？

Fresh　meat　in　moldy…book　land。　Sounds　like　a　freaking　party。

？Cool。　Wele　to　hell；？　Dan　barked；　secretly　thrilled　that　he　now　had　seniority　over　someone。

？Actually；　I　can？t　believe　I？m　here；？　Greg　continued　eagerly；　glancing　around　the　room　as　if　it

were　the　Sistine　Chapel　instead　of　a　dirty；　windowless　room　in　a　rat…infested　basement。　He　was

wearing　a　short…sleeved　cowboyish　but…ton…down　shirt　and　cutoff　khaki　pants　that　reminded　Dan

of　Vanessa。　The　other　afternoon　when　the　A/C　had　blown　out　in　the　living　room；　she？d

spontaneously　cut　the　legs　off　her　favorite　black　cargos　to　make　shorts。　God；　he　missed　her。

？I？ve　always　wanted　to　work　here；　you　know？？　Greg　went　on。

？Job？s　a　job；？　replied　Dan；　disinterestedly。　Of　course　he　knew　exactly　what　Greg　was　talking

about；　but　he　was　kind　of　enjoying　mimicking　the　attitude　copped　by　the　rest　of　the　senior　Strand

employees。　It　made　him　feel　tough；　like　he　might　put　out　his　next　cigarette　on　the　back　of　Greg？s

hand。　？I　saw　a　whole　cart　of　old　literary　journals　upstairs　by　the　elevator。　Guess　that？s　what　you？ll