Rough hands push an oxymoron into his kid brother’s back: the park is (mostly) empty, and school’s the culprit. Yeah, he let Anthony take the day off (kid’s got a lot goin’ on up in his noggin), and it’s spring and it’s warm and birds have returned to temporary homes and, did Lou just hear an ice cream truck?Â
Anyway, he’s sitting down with the trunk of his hand pushing into a creased-brow, wafting a glance to Anthony’s direction (content to find he’s off doing his own thing-- respectfully) eyes lifting steadily to a blunt stare (and once Lou starts a-lookin’, there’s no stoppin’).Â













