Holden Caulfield’s red hunting cap was his security blanket. He thought it was corny, but he wore it anyway, because – glory be – he liked it, and he liked the way it looked.
“I think that one of these days,” he said, “you’re going to have to find out where you want to go. And then you’ve got to start going there. But immediately. You can’t afford to lose a minute. Not you.”
I nodded, because he was looking right at me and all, but I wasn’t too sure what he was talking about. I was pretty sure I knew, but I wasn’t too positive at the time. I was too damn tired.