Jude squeezed his eyes shut, blinking away the sun’s glare,and waited for the eight-ﬁfteen-in-the-freaking-morning bus.
On a Saturday, no less. The stop was located beneath the ele-vated Long Island Rail Road, with rails that hummed overheadand stretched across the length of the island, connecting thefarthest points east all the way to Pennsylvania Station in Man-hattan. For as long as he could remember, New York City hadbeckoned to Jude, offering an exotic world of freedom andpossibility. The city stood as a skyscrapery refutation of hissuburban life, escape only a train ticket and forty-ﬁve minutesaway.He sat cross-legged on the curb, leaned back on his hands,and scanned the road for coming trafﬁc. Most people aroundhere drove like psychopaths, and Jude wasn’t eager to have hislegs run over. It might ruin his weekend, the bleeding stumps,all that dragging around. Better, he thought, not to get run overin the ﬁrst place, so he cast a wary eye down the road. Today