(I’ve dreamt daughter before. But this time I think it’s Tejas’ imminent fatherhood I’ve got on the mind. They’ve left the sex of their child with the gynecologist, so I get my shot at playing oracle.) Maybe four or five, he wore a red suit with extra padding at the knees and reminded me of Perry’s older boy—who cracked us all up at the picnic by sitting down to the watermelon-eating contest and taking his time to enjoy his piece—with a penchant for perching in an open window, in our room a thousand feet up. He was being cared for by someone else, and seemed comfortable enough on the sill, but I removed him from it anyway.
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