The girl looked up, listening, and then turned toward the boy who had just freed himself. She pushed against his great chest and clung.
“Larry,” she said.
The other boy undid his fists and looked at the two of them, then turned toward us, with tears in his eyes and an uncomprehending look on his face.
“Too bad, man,” someone said. “She picked Larry.”
“Good going, Larry,” said another.
It was done; people clapped. The battered policemen rushed over, the reinforcements squealed up, Larry kissed his girl.
“One more Pittsburgh heartbreak,” said a voice right beside me.
- Michael Chabon, The Mysteries of Pittsburgh
