Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close

candy bars so short, anyway? I mean, have you ever finished a candy bar and not wanted more? Over.” “I can't eat chocolate,” she said, “but I understand what you're telling me. Over.” “You could have longer combs, so your part could be all the way straight, and bigger mencils—” “Mencils?” “Pencils for men.” “Yes, yes.” “And bigger mencils that are easier to hold, in case your fingers are fat, like mine, and you could probably even train the birds that save you to take shiitakes in the portable pocket—” “I don't understand.” “On your birdseed shirt.”
    “Oskar? Over.” “I'm OK. Over.” “What's wrong, darling? Over.” “What do you mean what's wrong? Over.” “What's wrong? Over.” “I miss Dad. Over.” “I miss him, too. Over.” “I miss him a lot. Over.” “So do I. Over.” “All the time. Over.” “All the time. Over.” I couldn't explain to her that I missed him more, more than she or anyone else missed him, because I couldn't tell her about what happened with the phone. That secret was a hole in the middle of me that every happy thing fell into. “Did I ever tell you about how Grandpa would stop and pet every animal he saw, even if he was in a rush? Over?” “You've told me a googolplex times. Over.” “Oh. And what about how his hands were so rough and red from all of his sculptures that sometimes I joked to him that it was really the sculptures that were sculpting his hands? Over.” “That, too. But you can tell me again if you want. Over.” She told me again.
    An ambulance drove down the street between us, and I imagined who it was carrying, and what had happened to him. Did he break an ankle attempting a hard trick on his skateboard? Or maybe he was dying from third-degree burns on ninety percent of his body? Was there any chance that I knew him? Did anyone see the ambulance and wonder if it was me inside?
    What about a device that knew everyone you knew? So when an ambulance went down the street, a big sign on the roof could flash
    DON'T WORRY! DON'T WORRY!
    if the sick person's device didn't detect the device of someone he knew nearby. and if the device did detect the device of someone he knew, the ambulance could flash the name of the person in the ambulance, and either
    IT'S NOTHING MAJOR! IT'S NOTHING MAJOR!
    or, if it was something major,
    IT'S MAJOR! IT'S MAJOR!
    And maybe you could rate the people you knew by how much you loved them, so if the device of the person in the ambulance detected the device of the person he loved the most, or the person who loved him the most, and the person in the ambulance was really badly hurt, and might even die, the ambulance could flash
    GOODBYE! I LOVE YOU! GOODBYE! I LOVE YOU!
    One thing that's nice to think about is someone who was the first person on lots of people's lists, so that when he was dying, and his ambulance went down the streets to the hospital, the whole time it would flash
    GOODBYE! I LOVE YOU! GOODBYE! I LOVE YOU!
    “Grandma? Over?” “Yes, darling? Over?” “If Grandpa was so great, then why did he leave? Over.” She took a little step back so that she disappeared into her apartment. “He didn't want to leave. He had to leave. Over.” “But why did he have to leave? Over.” “I don't know. Over.” “Doesn't that make you angry? Over.” “That he left? Over.” “That you don't know why. Over.” “No. Over.” “Sad? Over.” “Sure. Over.” “Hold on,” I said, and I ran back to my field kit and grabbed Grandpa's camera. I brought it to the window and took a picture of her window. The lash lit up the street between us.
    10. Walt
    9. Lindy
    8. Alicia
    Grandma said, “I hope you never love anything as much as I love you. Over.”
    7. Farley
    6. The Minch / Toothpaste (tied)
    5. Stan
    I could hear her kissing her fingers and then blowing.
    4. Buckminster
    3. Mom
    I blew her a kiss back.
    2. Grandma
    “Over and out,” one of us said.
    1. Dad
    We need much bigger pockets, I thought as I lay in bed, counting off the seven minutes that it takes a normal person to fall asleep. We need enormous pockets, pockets big enough for our families, and our friends, and even the people who aren't on our lists, people we've never met but still want to protect. We need pockets for boroughs and for cities, a pocket that could hold the universe.
    Eight minutes thirty-two seconds...
    But I knew that there couldn't be pockets that enormous. In the end, everyone loses everyone.