Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close

lawyer for the Supreme Court.” “Well, you could make it your son's name, although I guess that might be confusing.” He said, “Doorman.” “What?” “Make it 'Doorman.'” “You can make it anything you want.” “Doorman.” I made it “Doorman215,” because there were already 214 doormen. As we were leaving, he said, “Good luck, Oskar.” I said, “How did you know my name was Oskar?” Mr. Black said, “You told him.” When I got home that afternoon I sent him an e-mail: “It's too bad you didn't know anything about the key, but it was still nice to meet you.”
    Dear Oskar,
    While you certainly express yourself like an intelligent young man, without ever having met you, and knowing nothing of your experience with scientific research, Yd have a hard time writing a recommendation.
    Thanks for the kind words about my work, and best of luck with your explorations, scientific and otherwise.
    Most sincerely,
    Jane Goodall
    Arnold Black got right to the point: “I just can't help. Sorry.” I said, “But we haven't even told you what we need help with.” He started getting teary and he said, “I'm sorry,” and closed the door. Mr. Black said, “Onward ho.” I nodded, and inside I thought, Weird.
    Thank you for your letter. Because of the large

volume of mail I receive, I am unable to write
    personal responses. Nevertheless, know that I
    read and save every letter, with the hope of one
    day being able to give each the proper response it
    deserves. Until that day,
    Most sincerely,
    Stephen Hawking
    The week was incredibly boring, except for when I remembered the key. Even though I knew that there were 161,999,999 locks in New York that it didn't open, I still felt like it opened everything. Sometimes I liked to touch it just to know that it was there, like the pepper spray I kept in my pocket. Or the opposite of that. I adjusted the string so the keys—one to the apartment, one to I-didn't-know-what—rested against my heart, which was nice, except the only thing was that it felt too cold sometimes, so I put a Band-Aid on that part of my chest, and the keys rested on that.
    Monday was boring.
    On Tuesday afternoon I had to go to Dr. Fein. I didn't understand why I needed help, because it seemed to me that you should wear heavy boots when your dad dies, and if you aren't wearing heavy boots, then you need help. But I went anyway, because the raise in my allowance depended on it.
    “Hey, buddy.” “Actually, I'm not your buddy.” “Right. Well. It's great weather today, don't you think? If you want, we could go outside and toss a ball.” “Yes to thinking it's great weather. No to wanting to toss a ball.” “You sure?” “Sports aren't fascinating.” “What do you find fascinating?” “What kind of answer are you looking for?” “What makes you think I'm looking for something?” “What makes you think I'm a huge moron?” “I don't think you're a huge moron. I don't think you're any kind of moron.” “Thanks.” “Why do you think you're here, Oskar?” “I'm here, Dr. Fein, because it upsets my mom that I'm having an impossible time with my life.” “Should it upset her?” “Not really. Life is impossible.” “When you say that you're having an impossible time, what do you mean?” “I'm constantly emotional.” “Are you emotional right now?” “I'm extremely emotional right now.” “What emotions are you feeling?” “All of them.” “Like...” “Right now I'm feeling sadness, happiness, anger, love, guilt, joy, shame, and a little bit of humor, because part of my brain is remembering something hilarious that Toothpaste once did that I can't talk about.” “Sounds like you're feeling an awful lot.” “He put Ex-Lax in the pain au chocolat we sold at the French Club bake sale.” “That is funny.” “I'm feeling everything.” “This emotionalness of yours, does it affect your daily life?” “Well, to answer your question, I don't think that's a real word you used. Emotionalness. But I understand what you were trying to say, and yes. I end up crying a lot, usually in private. It's extremely hard for me to go to school. I also can't sleep over at friends' apartments, because I get panicky about being away from Mom. I'm not very good with people.” “What do you think is going on?” “I feel too much. That's what's going on.” “Do you think one can feel too much? Or just feel in the wrong ways?” “My insides don't match up with my