A SELECTED PASSAGE FROM WAHRZEIT

Wehr is my closest friend— really my only friend, if I’m honest with myself, but I prefer not to be— yet he still confuses me all the time. He used to be a soldier himself, a first lieutenant or a captain or something, but he left for reasons that he’s never told me and I never asked about; I’ve heard rumors that he was discharged for something, but I don’t know what for or if it’s even true. Still, he carries around his standard military- grade bow almost all the time, which apparently he’s still authorized to do, probably to fend off those he’s smuggled drinks from. He’s still fairly fit, but in the way that people who used to be in peak condition but have let themselves go are; you can still see that he used to have athlete-level abs and biceps, but the inactivity and alcohol have started to wipe them away. He’s started getting short of breath easily and his legs have begun to swell slightly, but I would still trust him to be able to protect me if it came down to it— and I suspect that I wouldn’t stand a chance against him if it came down to that. On one hand, he seemingly doesn’t take anything seriously, and is constantly dismissive and blunt— but on the other, he’s often altruistic and kind in ways I don’t expect, and he’s excellent with children. He’s quick to anger but quick to forgive. Part-soldier, part-slacker, part-sinner, part-saint, but all Wehr. It’s baffling to me.