He couldn’t have been more than nine years old, swinging around and around the pole on the F Train. He wore an oversized hoodie. Freckles ran down his face. He stopped spinning. Considered things.
Dad, I need to know how you really feel about this XBox situation.
Dad’s eyebrows rose up above the newspaper.
Put yourself in my shoes. If you were my age and in my position, would you like an XBox?
He spoke just like that. I could imagine his ‘position’. A very serious one.