I found myself at my local Dunkin’ Donuts Sunday. Don’t judge. I was only getting iced coffee, I swear. OK, so I thought about getting a doughnut and eating it in the shop to hide the evidence from Veronica. But I didn’t. Besides, that’s not the point.
When I walked in the store, there was a man with (I presume) his two children. There was a boy who looked to be about Ryan’s age and a much younger daughter. The daughter flitted about, asking if she could have this doughnut or that one. She was adorable.
But my attention was focused immediately on the son, who was clearly developmentally impaired. I recognized the somewhat stilted speech. Right away, I realized what the father was doing. He was working with his son to place his order and handle the entire transaction himself.
I was glad to be the only other person…
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