July 31, 2018:
Yellow bowling shirt with patches. "Team Captain", reads one. Bowling glove on his right hand, left hand inside a bag of potato chips. My best friend who wasn't. He was a nice kid, we tolerated each other for the sake of our mums. But we'd never have chosen to hang if we hadn't been forced to.
The neighborhood is different than memory. Here the apartments are two-toned: blue-green above a stripe of faded yellow. I remember them as green with darker green trim. This must be earlier. The two visible cars are early-to-mid 1960s.