That day he walked the streets up and down, sometimes stopping when he saw a notice. He sensed Carl next to him, Carl giving his opinions. WAITER WANTED. No, we’ll find something better. He saw churches in between tall apartment buildings. They seemed pinned in, their arms pressed close to their sides. Much different than in Düsseldorf, where the churches stood apart, even on little hills, so that they towered over everything. It all seemed out of proportion, and as a result his small stature seemed to him less tragic here, with the tall, sleek towers sneering down at everything. But he couldn’t really gauge how fast to walk, the appropriate distance to allow between himself and others. He found himself surrounded by sighs and curses and angry excuse-mes, which meant the opposite. In the aisle at the grocery store a woman ahead of him moved aside to let him pass, and when he stepped back he was in the way of the surly customers behind him. On the stairs leading down to the subway he felt like he was just about to fall on someone. Often he knocked into people’s shoulders, hat brims jabbed him in the face, he was jostled, and all the while the hissed curses seemed directed at him, as if he was the one at fault. He began to see himself from high above, a black dot moving through the streets.

He looked up the Engelking family when he started yearning for a bath and could feel the lice in his hair. The family lived on the Lower East Side. He wandered first through half of Chinatown, a neighborhood where all the signs were in Chinese, except for CHOP SUEY, which he guessed was meant to be immediately identifiable to Americans.

The family lived in a single greasy room, their clothes hung on nails on the walls. Five kids—all of them had a cough. The business they’d founded was on the kitchen table: a pile of busted umbrellas.

The worst thing was the noise that filled the space between the apartment buildings: peddlers’ cries, the rumble of cars, and the screams from inside the buildings, which sounded like someone was being beaten. Women sat outside in their house dresses. One pushed a breast back under her neckline; it had fallen out. Bare legs with blue bruises. The misery continued as he moved down the street. Shouting women, limping men, dogs mating, peddlers pushing carts. A cat landed on its back at his feet and let out a pitiful yowl. From a window he heard children laughing. There were many languages spoken on the Engelkings’ street, everything except English.

He left the family after only one night and this time went to a sailors’ hostel. He was a bit relieved. He had discovered what it was to be alone.

He dragged himself through the streets, his hands in the pockets of his ancient suit.