Hazel Alexander's laugh booms over radio waves and scares off the squirrels. His tongue is white and twisted and rolls between two bottom teeth. The first time meeting him might be close to the feeling of approaching a lion.
He doesn't laugh much or talk much or do much, really. Sometimes he'll ride his bike to the Stop sign or rearrange his room. Sometimes he only speaks in grunts. He's always made me slightly nervous until about a week ago.
When I gave him this photo he was sitting in the same spot, smoking his pipe. He looked at it, put down his pipe and laughed. Loudly.
"You know, you're all right," he told me. And for a while I felt it.
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