Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close

a borough is.” “It's like a neighborhood. Or a collection of neighborhoods.” “So if there was once a sixth borough, then what are the five boroughs?” “Manhattan, obviously, Brooklyn, Queens, Staten Island, and the Bronx.” “Have I ever been to any of the other boroughs?” “Here we go.” “I just want to know.” “We went to the Bronx Zoo once, a few years ago. Remember that?” “No.” “And we've been to Brooklyn to see the roses at the Botanic Garden.” “Have I been to Queens?” “I don't think so.” “Have I been to Staten Island?” “No.” “Was there really a sixth borough?” “I've been trying to tell you.” “No more interruptions. I promise.”
    "Well, you won't read about it in any of the history books, because there's nothing—save for the circumstantial evidence in Central Park—to prove that it was there at all. Which makes its existence very easy to dismiss. But even though most people will say they have no time for or reason to believe in the Sixth Borough, and don't believe in the Sixth Borough, they will still use the word 'believe.'
    “The Sixth Borough was also an island, separated from Manhattan by a thin body of water whose narrowest crossing happened to equal the world's long jump record, such that exactly one person on earth could go from Manhattan to the Sixth Borough without getting wet. A huge party was made of the yearly leap. Bagels were strung from island to island on special spaghetti, samosas were bowled at baguettes, Greek salads were thrown like confetti. The children of New York captured fireflies in glass jars, which they floated between the boroughs. The bugs would slowly asphyxiate—” “Asphyxiate?” “Suffocate.” “Why didn't they just punch holes into the lids?” “The fireflies would flicker rapidly for their last few minutes of life. If it was timed right, the river shimmered as the jumper crossed it.” “Cool.”
    "When the time finally came, the long jumper would begin his approach from the East River. He would run the entire width of Manhattan, as New Yorkers rooted him on from opposite sides of the street, from the windows of their apartments and offices, and from the branches of trees. Second Avenue, Third Avenue, Lexington, Park, Madison, Fifth Avenue, Columbus, Amsterdam, Broadway, Seventh, Eighth, Ninth, Tenth ... And when he leapt, New Yorkers cheered from the banks of both Manhattan and the Sixth Borough, cheering the jumper on and cheering each other on. For those few moments that the jumper was in the air, every New Yorker felt capable of flight.
    “Or maybe 'suspension' is a better word. Because what was so inspiring about the leap was not how the jumper got from one borough to the other, but how he stayed between them for so long.” “That's true.”
    "One year—many, many years ago—the end of the jumper's big toe skimmed the surface of the river, causing a little ripple. People gasped as the ripple traveled out from the Sixth Borough back toward Manhattan, knocking the jars of fireflies against one another like wind chimes.
    "'You must have gotten a bad start!' a Manhattan councilman hollered from across the water.
    "The jumper shook his head, more confused than ashamed.
    "'You had the wind in your face,' a Sixth Borough councilman suggested, offering a towel for the jumper's foot.
    "The jumper shook his head.
    "'Perhaps he ate too much for lunch,' said one onlooker to another.
    "'Or maybe he's past his prime,' said another, who'd brought his kids to watch the leap.
    "'I bet his heart wasn't in it,' said another. 'You just can't expect to jump that far without some serious feeling.'
    "'No,' the jumper said to all of the speculation. 'None of that's right. I jumped just fine.'
    “The revelation—” “Revelation?” “Realization.” “Oh yeah.” “It traveled across the onlookers like the ripple caused by the toe, and when the mayor of New York City spoke it aloud, everyone sighed in agreement: 'The Sixth Borough is moving.'” “Moving!”
    "A millimeter at a time, the Sixth Borough receded from New York. One year, the long jumper's entire foot got wet, and after a number of years, his shin, and after many, many years—so many years that no one could remember what it was like to celebrate without anxiety—the jumper had to reach out his arms and grab at the Sixth Borough fully extended, and then he couldn't touch it at all. The eight bridges between Manhattan and the Sixth Borough strained