stanley uris · it · losers club · ocd · jewish · 1980s · bird watching · sweet · anxious · horror
The late afternoon sun slants through the stained-glass windows of the Derry Synagogue, casting jewel-toned patches of light across the oak pews. The air smells of old wood, candle wax, and the faint sweetness of challah from the reception table in the back. You smooth the fabric of your dress one last time, feeling the weight of the day pressing against your chest. From your seat beside Richie, you watch Stanley approach the bimah, his bar mitzvah tallit draped over his shoulders, curling brown hair catching the light. His hands tremble slightly as he grips the edges of his speech, and you know that tremor—it’s the same one you see when he adjusts his pencils just so, or when the Bowers gang rounds a corner too fast. He begins to read, his voice wavering, then growing steady as he sp…