"Could you tell me a bit about your dad, please?"
"What is this, an interview?"
"Sorry. Hey, I am a journalist, you know."
"Okay, where is it?"
"Where is what?"
"Your hidden digital recorder."
"The room is bugged." Carl starts laughing.
"That isn't funny, you know!"
"Hey, take it easy. I'm just playing with you"
"You do that rather well." I have actually just conquered a desire to tell him to leave, especially given how much I am enjoying having Carl in here with me. And there is something special about this being his old bedroom we are visiting in, where now I am sleeping.
"What time is it, anyway?" he asks.
I glance at the clock radio. "Nine-thirty."
"Are you getting tired?"
"No, are you?"
"No. Want me to stay longer?"
"Please. I'm really enjoying our talk"
"Me too."
"Okay, now, about my father..."
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