Perry Schepper

“Bye-bye.” Walker flaps his hand up and down.
I think I’ll give him a hug. I do it too fast and knock him down, he bangs on the train table and cries.
“I’m so sorry,” Grandma keeps saying, “my grandson doesn’t — he’s learning about boundaries—”
“No harm done,” says the first man. They go off with the little boy doing one two three whee swinging between them, he’s not crying anymore. Grandma watches them, she’s looking confused.
“Remember,” she says on the way to the white car, “we don’t hug strangers. Even nice ones.”
“Why not?”
“We just don’t, we save our hugs for people we love.”
“I love that boy Walker.”
“Jack, you never saw him before in your life.”
― Emma Donoghue, Room