became tangled in my hair.
Owen reached over and removed it.
“You have popcorn in your curls.”
“I noticed.”
He removed another.
Then another.
A minute later, a larger handful came flying forward.
Popcorn bounced off my head and shoulders.
One piece disappeared down the back of my shirt.
I turned around.
“Please stop throwing popcorn. It keeps landing on me.”
“He’s not throwing anything,” the father said without looking away from his phone. “He’s eating.”
“He’s missing by several feet.”
The mother finally looked up.
“He’s a child.”
I
