: Grand Central :

an excerpt by Peter LaSalle

 

Admittedly, it was a strange time to be in Grand Central, mid-morning like that and in August.

And Jameson would later tell himself that running into DeBarsy—after what was it, over forty years back at Harvard?—and then DeBarsy talking about what happened on the rugby team's so-called spring tour to Jamaica then—in what was it, 1967, no, 1968?—fit right in with the entire mood of the station, strange as the encounter with DeBarsy had been.

Truth of the matter was that Grand Central, the cliché for crowds and hurrying, could take on a certain stillness at about ten o'clock, once the rush hour was not only over but somehow close to completely forgotten.