Running the Bulls (2014)
“I was drunker than I ever remembered having been.”
—Jake Barnes, The Sun Also Rises It was Wednesday afternoon that Howard drove toward Patterson Street in a rumbling rental truck, Pete Morton bouncing around in the passenger seat. Howard had already backed the orange monstrosity up to the service door at the Holiday Inn, where Wally had tossed out a couple dozen empty boxes.
“If you need more,” Wally said, “I’m expecting a delivery tomorrow.”
Howard had thanked him, and then he and... Pete Morgan had climbed into the cab of the truck and, gears grinding, had headed for Patterson.
“A van would have been big enough,” said Pete. “I mean, she’s keeping the furniture, right?”
Howard tried not to think about this: the bed they had slept in for all those years, a nick in the wood on his side of the headboard; that sofa that seemed to reach up and pull one’s tired body down into the plushness of it; the kitchen table where John had dropped his pocket knife in the third grade and knocked away a small chunk of wood; the lamp Ellen had bought at an antiques store in Connecticut, a clipper ship of some kind that they’d always intended to have appraised; the coat rack Howard Jr.MoreLess
—Jake Barnes, The Sun Also Rises It was Wednesday afternoon that Howard drove toward Patterson Street in a rumbling rental truck, Pete Morton bouncing around in the passenger seat. Howard had already backed the orange monstrosity up to the service door at the Holiday Inn, where Wally had tossed out a couple dozen empty boxes.
“If you need more,” Wally said, “I’m expecting a delivery tomorrow.”
Howard had thanked him, and then he and... Pete Morgan had climbed into the cab of the truck and, gears grinding, had headed for Patterson.
“A van would have been big enough,” said Pete. “I mean, she’s keeping the furniture, right?”
Howard tried not to think about this: the bed they had slept in for all those years, a nick in the wood on his side of the headboard; that sofa that seemed to reach up and pull one’s tired body down into the plushness of it; the kitchen table where John had dropped his pocket knife in the third grade and knocked away a small chunk of wood; the lamp Ellen had bought at an antiques store in Connecticut, a clipper ship of some kind that they’d always intended to have appraised; the coat rack Howard Jr.MoreLess
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