“12 times 9 is 108 Dad! I should get half that money. You’re tryin’ to tell me a story!” Little Billy shot back, already mimicking the brusque facial expressions and tone of his father.
We got on at City Hall station. I got off at Cecil B. around 8pm on Wednesday. The break dancing family was talking to me but you and I kept exchanging glances.
Each morning, James would make juice for himself. After hearing an ad for the device during a podcast, he decided to buy it on a whim. He liked waking up and seeing its polished aluminium body waiting on the kitchen countertop. The device resembled an artillery shell or an oversized bullet.