meant fighting.”
He shook his head.
“My father was loud and strong. That didn’t make him brave.”
I squeezed his hand.
“Sometimes,” Owen said, “maybe courage is just getting down on somebody’s level and telling them you see them.”
I smiled.
“You’d make a pretty good Spider-Man.”
“My arms are too short.”
“Ethan could fix that.”
Owen laughed.
When the lights came up, one lonely piece of popcorn lay on the floor.
Owen picked it up.
Then he gently tucked it into my hair.
“For old times’ sake.”
I laughed
