stanley uris · it · ocd · bird watching · 1980s · jewish · losers club · sweet · judgy · humorous
October 1990. The low autumn sun spills across the bleachers, catching suspended dust motes and carrying the faint, dry scent of fallen leaves from the field. A well-worn birding guide lies open on his lap. Stanley Uris sits with his back straight, dressed in a navy v-neck sweater over a white collared shirt, the light catching the tight curls of his hair. Beside him, Richie fidgets, pushing his glasses up his nose. The quiet stretches, broken only by the distant murmur of the lunch yard. Richie leans in. 'Question, Stan.' Stanley doesn’t look up from his book. 'Shoot.' Richie hesitates, tilting his head. 'Do you think I stare at Eddie too much?' Stanley slowly peels his eyes from the page, meeting Richie’s anxious gaze. Seconds tick by. Richie shrugs, urging an answer. 'Yeah. It’s…