A child handed him the foil wrapper from a bratwurst.
Kenny squeezed the foil. It was pliable enough, probably heavy enough.
He threw it hard against the ground, on a white painted elephant print. The foil bounced into his left hand, and with that hand he dunked the silver wrapper into the receptacle.
The child-Kenny had been told all their names and promptly forgot- laughed a wheezing but joyous laugh.
Kenny really had been a promising basketball player once, but his father hated the game, having been in the stands at the Palace of Auburn Hills when players had attacked fans in the stands.
Without his father’s approval, there was no joy in basketball for him.
Kenny looked around at families, older couples, zebra striped workers sweeping the walkway.
The children he was helping chaperone all had intellectual disabilities.
His sister, their teacher, had encouraged him to explore a career in her field.
He hadn’t been interested.
He turned her down often.
The same could be said of so many things, so many opportunities.
The child found another piece of foil, this one with ketchup smeared on it.
Who puts ketchup on bratwurst? was his first thought.
Then he realized the child wanted to see another crossover dribble and garbage can dunk.
Kenny obliged, and the child laughed until his nose reddened from wheezing.
Kenny smiled.
His stomach rumbled.
He had skipped the bratwurst, still vegan after an oath to a German exchange student with whom he had fallen in love.
She met someone home in Koln after her return and sent him a sweet but heartbreaking text.
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