Trading Places


I’m sitting in Starbucks evaluating a proposal for work. There is a tall hot cappuccino next to me that I occasionally sip from. I adjust my red silk scarf to get some more air. It is warmer than I expected and I feel tempted to take it off. But that will make my grey sweater look drab. So, I leave it on.

I notice a woman walk in with a child who closely resembles my younger son. He goes off to a table and starts playing on his phone, while his mother waits in line. Even that would’ve been like my son, I think, and smile to myself.

Then the boy suddenly gets up, goes to his mom, and tells her he changed his mind. (And this is where he starts looking different from my son.) He doesn’t want hot chocolate anymore. He wants the marble cake. They tell him they’re…

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