My son puts on a newsboy cap, picks up a newspaper and his voice rings out: "Extra, extra, read all about it!"I laugh, and he tosses the hat aside. He grabs a cop's hat and waves a baton. A helmet, and he's lowcrawling along the floor.
I see the fedora, but I'm not fast enough. Steel eyes gaze from under its brim.
"Couldn't wait for the inheritance," my father says through my son.
I stumble backward as my son, wearing my father's hat and my father's eyes, raises the knife.
"You never could wait," he said.
"But I could."
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