An energetic thrum vibrated about the place, simply reeking of activity. Anthony was sometimes awed by how different people looked, in fact, because Adam had only told him about Russian and American. Anthony didn’t know if there was a word for the people with slanted eyes, or the people with the glossy dark skin. Though once, he had heard a store owner call one of those people “a free canâ€?, whatever that meant. He would ask Adam about it later.

Presently, however, as the breeze rustled his hair and brushed against his bare toes, Anthony watched Adam. He had blinked eighteen times in the past thirty seconds, so Anthony could tell something was on his mind. His mouth was pursed in a way that meant he was chewing on his cheeks, a habit he only pursued when he was thinking, and his eyebrows made four creases in between each other. Deep thought meant only three.

“Adam?â€?

“Yes?â€?

“You’re thinking. About what?â€?

Adam broke out of his stupor and sighed. “Nothing. . .nothing.â€?