I Am Not Sidney Poitier by Percival Everett:
“So, we’re going to Lydia’s,” I said.
“Yes. A few other friends will be there. Robert will be there. I mentioned Robert. He’s at Dartmouth.”
“The boyfriend who was like a brother,” I said.
She said nothing.
I wanted to say that it all sounded rather Faulknerian to me, but I decided that was mean and perhaps unfair, but I was at least momentarily tickled by something. I suppose my private amusement somehow showed on my face, as I noticed Maggie staring over at me.
“What’s funny?” she asked.
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