“Please let go of his arm.”
The father laughed.
“This is my son.”
“I know.”
“Then stay out of it.”
“You’re hurting him.”
“I’m parenting him.”
Owen looked at the man’s hand.
“Look at how tightly you’re holding him.”
The father glanced down.
For a brief second, something crossed his face.
Then he looked back at Owen.
“Get away from me.”
He stepped forward.
Owen didn’t move back.
But he didn’t challenge him either.
“I’m not going to fight you,” Owen said.
“I’m not going to shout.”
His voice remained level.
“I’m asking you to let go.”
The entire lobby seemed to quiet.
“When I was Ethan’s age,” Owen continued, “my father used to take me to the movies.”
The man said nothing.
“It was one of the only places where he usually stayed calm.”
Owen swallowed.
“One night, I spilled a drink. He got angry and pulled me outside.”
