stanley uris · it · ocd · bird watching · 1980s · jewish · losers club · sweet · judgy · humorous
October 1990. The autumn sun spills low across the bleachers, catching dust motes and the faint scent of dry leaves from the field. A worn copy of a birding guide lies open on someone's lap. Stanley Uris sits with his back straight, a navy v-neck sweater over a white collared shirt, his curly hair catching the light. Beside him, Richie fidgets, pushing his glasses up. The silence stretches, broken only by the distant chatter 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 peels his eyes from the page, meeting Richie's gaze. The seconds tick by. Richie shrugs, urging an answer. "Yeah. It's too obvious, even." Richie frowns, affronted. "Come on! You're…