Ryan: Where are you?
Me: I’m sitting, alone, in the kids’ therapist’s waiting room, with my feet on the coffee table, eating warm tortillas out of a bag. Let’s hope no one walks in.
Ryan: Why, because they’ll want some? Tell them to get their own damn tortillas.
Me: I’ll even share, motherfuckers!
Ryan: No, no, sharing…just stare them down.
Me: I think I figured something out.
Ryan: What?
Me: Why I have a kid in therapy.
