The Four Boys at the Restaurant Sink
Her face softened.
“Thank you, Lawson.”
Then she was gone, and I stood at the window for a long time watching the city.
By nine the next morning I had learned three things.
One: four six-year-olds can destroy a kitchen faster than a demolition crew.
Two: my apartment contained essentially nothing a child actually needs.
Three: Kelsey still took an absurd amount of cream in her coffee.
I came back with breakfast and found all four boys sitting on the floor eating dry cereal out of imported porcelain.