“Hold on a moment, sir,” the host said, and walked towards the kitchen.He leaned into the kitchen, and I could just make out him say, “Mr. LaRog...e” into the door. A huge, light-coffee skinned man with a notable black curly beard, and tightly curled short-Afro hair came out of the kitchen. My mouth dropped open. He was too young to be her husband, he was almost my size, and the shape of his face was ... no, it couldn’t be.It was her son, certainly. But he looked like me in a few ways, not. You came over, took my tray away, and gave me your lunchbox, even the juice in your thermos. I saw you make yucky faces as you ate my lunch instead. I told mommy how nice you were. She spanked me for not eating my lunch from school. When I wasn’t hungry at dinner, she spanked me again. I didn’t let you take my lunch the next day, and she spanked me anyway. She didn’t even tell me why. You tried each day for weeks to get me to swap. Then one day, you waited with me in the lunch line. We went to. More

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