On my back, a dirty brown coat with a fake-fur collar. Not exactly the kid from the Sears catalog but a kid all the same. Just a third grader, bottom lip chafed from obsessive licking, little fingernails bitten to the quick, aching for a good time.” Eight years old and looking for a little security, a little self-confidence - any self-confidence, really. “Aching for a good time.” Is this really an adult man talking about pictures of himself as a child? Or is it a creepy neighbor thinking about a boy who lives down the street?
