"How old are you?"
The boy held up three fingers, then--probably because he was bored of me--walked away and returned to his toy cars. He rolled them on the hardwood floor, making engine noises.
"Quite a kid you have there," I said to his mother, a nervous woman.
"Thank you."
She was visibly distressed, shaking.
"It'll be okay."
She looked at me. I don't think she believes me.
"Why don't we start with when it began?"
She nodded. "Two weeks ago," she said, then her eyes averted from mine and went wide.
I turned around and saw little Tommy giggling and playing with his cars, except they were floating two feet above his head, racing on an invisible track of air.
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