Osman grew up in Everett. He’d studied his ass off, but neither his grades nor his parentage could get him into Harvard. He did his four years at BU. At least he came out without a dollar in student loans. He didn’t have a dollar in his bank account either, but he had some ideas on how to change that.

He landed a three-month internship at the Central Square office of a big tech company. Before two months were up he was on salary. He liked the work. It paid well and got him a free computer. In fact it kept getting him free computers. Pretty soon he was giving out laptops as gifts.

He took a little apartment in a brick-and-ivy off of Brattle. He managed to keep it pretty clean. He got some stuff to put in it so it wasn’t too empty. He could afford to send money to his parents across the river.

He started going to bars on the weekends. Sometimes he’d come home with a girl or another. Before long he knew a few who he could call up to go to the bar together, or sometimes skip the bar entirely.

They had jobs and apartments too. They’d go out to eat, they’d go to concerts, they’d look for adventures. And they’d find them, more often than not.

Osman didn’t know where to go next. He didn’t much care. He was living the dream. He was right where he wanted to be.

-beneath the Cambridge Duomo, 2011


~ by davekov on 9 June 2011.

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