A few weeks ago, Owen and I were riding bikes down to the end of our short street. A car was coming, so we pulled over to the side. Owen said, “I wonder if that’s Molly’s dad.”
As the car went by, we could see it was some older, gray and balding guy in a collared, button-down shirt.
“Nope,” Owen said. “It’s just some business guy.”
“Oh yeah, what makes you say it was a business guy?”
“Because. He was wearing clothes like Pa and Grampa wear.”