When Daniel met my dad, Daniel avoided eye contact with my dad. A Chicago Sun Times was on the table between the three of us and Daniel thumbed through it like he could read English. My dad asked him where he worked and Daniel casually turned to the horoscopes. I faced Daniel, “Daniel, listen. My dad asked you a question.”
“I hear him.” Daniel said and looked at the wall behind my dad for the first time. “I am the killer designer, de, the Mart.”
“What the hell is he talking about Sheila?” My dad asked and we both watched as Daniel flipped to yet another page.
2 comments:
Hhahaha! Wow, talk about a moment to queue the crickets! So what did he do?
Steve Cull, what do you mean, "queue the crikets"?
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