Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close

said, With my glasses I could be helpful.
    I told him, Let me try to free you.
    He said, Find my glasses.
    They were shouting for everyone to get out. The rest of the ceiling was about to collapse.
    I wanted to stay with him.
    But I knew he would want me to leave him.
    I told him, Daddy, I have to leave you.
    Then he said something.
    It was the last thing he ever said to me.
    I can't remember it.
    In my dream, the tears went up his cheeks and back into his eyes.
    I got up off the sofa and filled a suitcase with the typewriter and as much paper as would fit.
    I wrote a note and taped it to the window. I didn't know whom it was for.
    I went from room to room turning off the lights. I made sure none of the faucets were dripping. I turned off the heat and unplugged the appliances. I closed all the windows.
    As the cab drove me away, I saw the note. But I couldn't read it because my eyes are crummy.
    In my dream, painters separated green into yellow and blue.
    Brown into the rainbow.
    Children pulled color from coloring books with crayons, and mothers who had lost children mended their black clothing with scissors.
    I think about all of the things I've done, Oskar. And all of the things I didn't do. The mistakes I've made are dead to me. But I can't take back the things I never did.
    I found him in the international terminal. He was sitting at a table with his hands on his knees.
    I watched him all morning.
    He asked people what time it was, and each person pointed at the clock on the wall.
    I have been an expert at watching him. It's been my life's work.
    From my bedroom window. From behind trees. From across the kitchen table.
    I wanted to be with him.
    Or anyone.
    I don't know if I've ever loved your grandfather.
    But I've loved not being alone.
    I got very close to him.
    I wanted to shout myself into his ear.
    I touched his shoulder.
    He lowered his head.
    How could you?
    He wouldn't show me his eyes. I hate silence.
    Say something.
    He took his pen from his shirt pocket and the top napkin from the stack on the table.
    He wrote, You were happy when I was away.
    How could you think that?
    We are lying to ourselves and to each other.
    Lying about what? I don't care if we're lying.
    I am a bad person.
    I don't care. I don't care what you are.
    I can't.
    What's killing you?
    He took another napkin from the stack.
    He wrote, You're killing me.
    And then I was silent.
    He wrote, You remind me.
    I put my hands on the table and told him, You have me.
    He took another napkin and wrote, Anna was pregnant.
    I told him, I know. She told me.
    You know?
    I didn't think you knew. She said it was a secret. I'm glad you know.
    He wrote, I'm sorry I know.
    It's better to lose than never to have had.
    I lost something I never had.
    You had everything.
    When did she tell you?
    We were in bed talking.
    He pointed at, When.
    Near the end.
    What did she say?
    She said, I'm going to have a baby.
    Was she happy?
    She was overjoyed.
    Why didn't you say anything?
    Why didn't you?
    In my dream, people apologized for things that were about to happen, and lit candles by inhaling.
    I have been seeing Oskar, he wrote.
    I know.
    You know?
    Of course I know.
    He flipped back to, Why didn't you say anything?
    Why didn't you?
    The alphabet went z, y, x, w ...
    The clocks went tock-tick, tock-tick...
    He wrote, I was with him last night. That's where I was. I buried the letters.
    What letters?
    The letters I never sent.
    Buried them where?
    In the ground. That's where I was. I buried the key, too.
    What key?
    To your apartment.
    Our apartment.
    He put his hands on the table.
    Lovers pulled up each other's underwear, buttoned each other's shirts, and dressed and dressed and dressed.
    I told him, Say it.
    When I saw Anna for the last time.
    Say it.
    When we.
    Say it!
    He put his hands on his knees.
    I wanted to hit him.
    I wanted to hold him.
    I wanted to shout myself into his ear.
    I asked, So what happens now?
    I don't know.
    Do you want to go home?
    He flipped back to, I can't.
    Then you'll go away?
    He pointed at, I can't.
    Then we are out of options.
    We sat there.
    Things were happening around us, but nothing was happening between us.
    Above us, the screens said which flights were landing and which were taking off.
    Madrid departing.
    Rio arriving.
    Stockholm departing.
    Paris departing.
    Milan arriving.
    Everyone was coming or going.
    People around the world were moving from one place to another.
    No one was staying.
    I said, What if we