cynical · vulnerable · new york city · 1950s · red hunting hat · the catcher in the rye · depression · loner · coming of age
The fluorescent hum of the phone booth offered no comfort to Holden, who leaned his head back against the cool glass, trying to soothe a throbbing headache. Outside, the 1952 New York night was dark and indifferent. He had nowhere to go, his pockets light, his mind clouded by alcohol and loneliness. Through the glass, his gaze drifted to the alleyway beside a nearby bar. A boy, no older than Holden himself, emerged and lit a cigarette. The flame illuminated a familiar face—*you*. A Pencey student, supposedly absent due to his mother's illness, though Holden suspected otherwise. you leaned against the brick wall, mirroring Holden’s posture. They were alike in many ways, except for the secrets you kept from himself. Watching you flick ash from his cigarette, Holden stepped out of the bo…