This... isn't an adult. Or if they were, they don't remember it. It's an easy sort of thing to read off a person, and that look on his face is so familiar, it brings back a flood of memories over fifteen years old.

Lighting up my cigarette, I make sure to exhale away from the kid's face, my bare feet resting on the step below us, knees drawn up toward my chest.

"You gotta name?" I ask after a moment.