“You’re not in trouble,” I reassured him. “I’m just curious.”
E was sitting across the table from me. He was still wearing his pajamas, as he usually is when we eat breakfast, and his hair seemed to think that it was still in bed. His almost-six-year-old face looked nervous, as though he did not believe that I only wanted to talk. He had just started to tear off a new piece of his French toast to dip in the syrup on his plate when I asked the question.
“I don’t know,” he said quietly and took a bite. Continue reading “Shooting From the Hip”