It sounds to me like you were only trying to return the stuff and do right.
My father is a lawyer, if you would like one.
I guess he's pretty good. Or if you would like to write me anyway, here is my address: 150 East 22 St.
I read in the paper that your family don't live in New York, which is why I thought you might like someone to write to.
Yours sincerely,
Dave Mitchell
Now that I'm a free citizen again, I dig out my black sweater, look disgustedly at the butch haircut, and go out to mail my letter.
Later on I get into a stickball game again on Twenty-first Street.
Cat comes along and sits up high on a stoop across the street, where he can watch the ball game and the tame dogs being led by on their leashes.
That big brain, the super of Forty-six, is standing by the delivery entrance, looking sour as usual.