You remember the first time you really realized you were fucked up. You were five. First year of kindergarten, miserable as all fuck. The teacher told the boys to line up on one side of the room and the girls on the other. You don't even remember why. You just remember the result.

Sid didn’t introduce himself in the hallway, and he certainly doesn’t assume that people know who he is. So it would only be polite to thank Malkin again, this time more personally. He could write him a letter. An email? No, a letter.