Inspired

WALT SLEEPS ON THE COUCH. The half-eaten pint of chocolate peanut butter ice cream is perched on his belly, melting. It lifts up with each breath, almost tipping, and falls back down. Up, down. The ice cream soup sloshes over the edge and spills down Walt’s belly.

He jumps up, awake, and the ice cream splashes all over the couch.

“Yuck!” Walt yells. “Ugh. Why does that keep happening to me?!”

After a quick shower, Walt calls Whitty.

But Whitty’s not there. Walt leaves a voice message. “Hi, Whitty. Hi, PB. How are you? I’m just . . . I’m calling because . . . Well, you know. That was pretty neat, huh? To see Brooklyn in the olden days? Um, call me.”