ADAM & EVE
The woman whom You gave to be with me, she gave me fruit from the tree, and I ate.
—Adam
“I’m just not buying it.”
“Buying what?”
“The whole universe being created in seven days thing,” said the boy. ‘Let there be light’ and all that jazz.”
“I didn’t know it was for sale,” said the old man, moving a pawn forward.
“You know what I mean,” said the boy, sliding a bishop across to take it. “Obviously the Bible has played a major role in shaping our culture, but the stories I’ve read seem like mythology people take as history.” Streaks of sunlight splashed through the trees as he placed the pawn with a small collection aside the board.
The man lifted his knight and placed it in the newly opened space. He whispered, “Check,” before saying, “Well, what do you think Genesis is about?”
The boy grumbled something under his breath while he looked over his mistake. “Well, I think it was made to explain our existence, before we had science to learn the earth wasn’t the center of the universe and all that. A lot of cultures have origin stories, but now there’s too much evidence for evolution for someone to convince me to drink the creationism Kool-Aid.”
The old man said nothing, just stared at the board, so the boy carried on.
“But I think the debate over historical accuracy takes away from the positive things the stories have to offer,” said the boy. “I’m pro-Bible, let’s put it that way. Not a fan of what organized religion did with it, but I’m willing to put that aside and talk about the book itself.”
“That’s fair,” said the man.
A warm summer breeze blew across the park and tousled hair into the boy’s eyes. He pursed his lips and blew it out again. “Go ahead. I cut you off.”
“Quite alright,” said the man, flipping back to the page he was on. “I prefer a dialogue over a lecture anyway. But I’ll skip to Adam and Eve. I’d like to hear your thoughts on that one.”
“Remind me where this supposedly took place again?” said the boy.
“Well, there’s mention of a river flowing from Eden that divides into four branches, so that’s our only clue. The Tigris and the Euphrates we know of, so a few suggestions point to the head of the Persian Gulf. That would be southern Mesopotamia or modern-day Iraq. But the Pishon and the Gihon are unknown, so I guess we can’t say for sure.”
“Alright,” said the boy, moving his king out of check, “go ahead. You were about to tell me how God rips out one of Adam’s ribs to make a woman.”
With a smirk, the old man said, “I think it’s laid out a bit more tastefully than that, but that’s the gist of it, yes.”
“Bone of my bones, flesh of my flesh, and she’ll be called woman,” said the boy, “or something like that, right?”
“Close enough. Then the next line is just beautiful,” said the man, looking down at his Bible to read aloud:
Therefore a man shall leave his father and his mother and be joined to his wife, and they shall become one flesh.1
“And the man and his wife were naked and not ashamed or whatever,” said the boy. “But I never understood that line you just read, because at this point Adam doesn’t have parents, so it doesn’t make any sense, ya know?”
“You’ve got me there,” said the man as he took his next move. “I won’t pretend to understand everything the Good Book says. This line may allude to the rules of marriage coming down the line, signaling a shift in the ancient culture where the highest allegiance was to one’s parents. This verse makes it clear that a man’s duty is to forsake his parents and shift loyalty to his wife. Anyway, I just think the description of marriage is beautiful.”
“I take it you’re married?”
“I was,” said the man. “She passed a while ago now.”
“Oof. Sorry I brought it up.”
“Don’t worry about it,” said the man.
The boy gave a nod as he took his move and said, “I cut you off again. Go ahead.”
So the man read on:
Now the serpent was more cunning than any beast of the field which the Lord God had made. And he said to the woman, “Has God indeed said, ‘You shall not eat of every tree in the garden?’”
And the woman said to the serpent, “We may eat of the fruit of the trees in the garden, but of the fruit of the tree which is in the midst of the garden, God has said, ‘You shall not eat it, nor shall you touch it, lest you die.’”
But the serpent said to the woman, “You will not surely die, for God knows that in the day you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.”2
“Right, right, right,” said the boy. “So she sees it’s good for food and takes a bite and gives some to Adam. Yada, yada, their eyes open and they realize they’re naked.” He reached for a piece and then stopped, rethinking his move as he carried on. “So I have a few thoughts here. First of all, you have to ask, why a snake?”
“You know,” said the man, “I never thought to question the serpent itself.”
“That’s because for someone who believes in creationism, you probably overlooked the evolutionary importance of snakes.”
“What do you mean?” said the man.
“Well, when we were still living in trees, snakes were one of the few things that were always a threat. We could hide from crocodiles in the water, lions on the ground, or birds in the sky, but when we were out of reach and hidden by leaves, one of the few things that could still sneak up on us were snakes. They were always a threat to be aware of, so it’s fitting one should open our eyes to being vulnerable.”
“So that’s your take on what being naked means?” said the man. “Being vulnerable?”
“Well, go ahead and read the first thing they do after they eat the fruit.”
So the old man read:
Then the eyes of both were opened, and they knew that they were naked, and they sewed fig leaves together and made themselves coverings.3
“Right,” said the boy, “they cover up their most vulnerable parts. But in reality, it wasn’t a piece of fruit that made us aware, it was the snakes climbing our trees that were around long before this story was ever written down. Think of it this way. The tale of ‘Little Red Riding Hood’ didn’t put wolves in the forest, the wolves were already there. The story was just used to warn us to go in the woods with caution.”
The man raised an eyebrow. “Interesting comparison. However, I always viewed being naked as the soul being stripped of its natural clothing, purity and holiness, so Adam could no longer stand before his Creator without feeling the need to hide from shame.”
“I see what you’re saying,” said the boy.
“And from the Christian point of view,” said the man, “the serpent is Satan, who baits his hook with the promise of intellectual delights, opposing what God told them about dying.”
“Right,” said the boy, “the snake is tricky because he doesn’t challenge God’s authority, but he does make them doubt whether or not God can be trusted. It also hints that God is jealous by implying He doesn’t want them to know what He knows. So if what the snake says turns out to be true, we know God’s a jealous liar.”
“Bold statement,” said the man.
“But no one ever promised not to eat the fruit,” said the boy. “They were merely told not to eat it. In fact, Eve wasn’t even around when God told Adam not to eat it. Technically, God never told Eve not to eat the fruit. She just heard a rumor after she poofed into existence.” The old man laughed as he moved a piece on the board. “But then she adds, ‘nor shall you touch it,’ which God never specifically said.” The boy scratched his head. “What’s that called when you say something you were thinking about but didn’t mean to say?”
“A Freudian slip?”
“Yeah,” said the boy. “I think it’s one of those, expressing her desire to touch what she’s not supposed to.”
“I guess that could be true,” said the man, “but she could have also just misremembered, or added an extra layer to highlight God’s command. Whatever the reason, though, it allowed the serpent to play on her words and make God seem even more restrictive than He was.”
“Right,” said the boy. “Adam, though, what a piece of work he is. He doesn’t exactly put up a fight when Eve puts the fruit in his hands. He defies the Almighty almost immediately after God made him. Makes you wonder, was God not very convincing? Did He not come off as an authority? I mean, what reason did Adam have to go against His will? It wasn’t like he had a chip on his shoulder where he felt the need to stick it to the Man. He didn’t grow up in a bad neighborhood or have mommy issues. He didn’t even have the excuse of, ‘Oh, were you talking to me, God?’ It’s like, ‘Yeah, pal. You’re the only one here.’”
“Right,” said the man. “His passive behavior is as striking as her eagerness and excitability. Not only that, but the text makes it seem like Adam was nearby when Eve took the fruit, as she didn’t exactly have to go looking for him. This raises the question of whether or not he overheard the conversation with the serpent, and if so, why he didn’t jump in to stop it.”
“I guess we’ll never know,” said the boy, scanning over the board again.
“Some of us engage with temptation,” said the man, “and others follow those who make the decision for us.” Then he looked down at his Bible and read again:
And they heard the sound of the Lord God walking in the garden in the cool of the day, and the man and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the Lord God among the trees of the garden.
But the Lord God called to the man and said to him, “Where are you?”
And he said, “I heard the sound of you in the garden, and I was afraid, because I was naked, and I hid myself.”
He said, “Who told you that you were naked? Have you eaten of the tree of which I commanded you not to eat?”4
“First of all,” said the boy, “if God is all knowing or whatever, why would He have to ask these things? Wouldn’t He already know the answers?”
“I believe this is God’s way of giving Adam a chance to admit what he’s done,” said the man, “to repent.”
“Mmm,” said the boy, nodding his head. “That makes sense.”
“But instead, there’s an instinct to hide the truth from God,” said the man. “Adam mentions why he hid but doesn’t exactly mention the disobedience from which his sense of being naked arose.”
“Right,” said the boy. “Instead, he’s a real class act and says, ‘She made me do it!’” The old man laughed. “Rats her right out, the gutless prick. Not only that, but he throws it back in God’s face, if I recall. ‘The woman You gave me,’ or something like that, right?”
“That’s right,” said the old man with a smile. “Avoiding blame seems to be a natural instinct from the very beginning. Instead of taking responsibility for his sin by going back to our loving Creator, Adam lays the blame on someone else.”
“And then she blames the snake,” said the boy, advancing a pawn. “It’s like, come on, guys. What are we doing here?”
“And notice how the serpent remains quiet when Eve shifts the blame,” said the man. “I heard a preacher once say that a transference of blame is a transference of power. Adam blames his wife, and the dominion shifts when God turns to her. Then she blames the serpent, and the serpent accepts the allegation with silence.”
“And you said Christians see the snake as Satan, right?”
“That’s right,” said the man. “The preacher said this act was how the Devil gained his power in our world. Imagine how differently history could have unfolded had either of them owned up to what they’d done.”
“Yeah, that’s an interesting take,” said the boy. “Then they all get punished, right?”
“Right again,” said the man, running his fingers down the text to find his line:
The Lord God said to the serpent, “Because you have done this, you are cursed more than all cattle, and more than every beast of the field. On your belly you shall go, and dust you shall eat all the days of your life. And I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your seed and her Seed. He shall bruise your head, and you shall bruise His heel.”
To the woman He said, “I will greatly increase your pangs in childbearing. In pain you shall bring forth children, and your desire shall be for your husband, and he shall rule over you.”
Then to Adam He said, “Because you have heeded the voice of your wife, and have eaten of the tree about which I commanded you, saying, ‘You shall not eat of it,’ cursed is the ground for your sake. In toil you shall eat of it all the days of your life, both thorns and thistles it shall bring forth for you, and you shall eat the herb of the field. By the sweat of your face you shall eat bread until you return to the ground, for out of it you were taken, for dust you are, and to dust you shall return.”5
“Seems like Eve got the short end of the stick on that one, doesn’t it?” said the boy.
“What do you mean?” said the man, taking his move.
“So the snake has to slither on his belly, boohoo. That’s more of an inconvenience, not to mention that’s what snakes do. And so the man has to sweat a bit as he feeds himself. That was his purpose in the garden anyway, wasn’t it? But Eve, man. ‘In pain you shall bring forth children’ and ‘your husband shall rule over you’? If I was Eve I would’ve pushed back here, like, ‘Woah, woah, woah, God. You made it clear that the day we ate of the tree we would surely die. Pain and being ruled over weren’t part of the deal!’”
“There’s a description I read once,” said the man, scratching his temple, “but I can’t for the life of me recall who said it. Anyway, it went something like, ‘Eve was made from Adam’s rib, pulled from his side to be an equal, not from his head to rule over him, nor from his feet to be trampled over, but from under his arm to be protected, and near his heart to be loved.’”
“There you go with that soppy marriage stuff again,” said the boy.
“You’ll understand one day,” said the man.
“Doubt it. But what kind o—”
“Let me just say,” said the man, “that when God made Eve as Adam’s ‘helper,’ it wasn’t in this bring-me-a-sandwich kind of way you kids throw around these days.”
The boy laughed. “I can’t even believe you know about that.”
“You’d be surprised what your grandchildren let loose in front of their elders now,” said the man. “But the term ‘helper’ wasn’t meant to be a servant. From my understanding, it was supposed to mean something like ‘strength’ or ‘power.’ God gives man dominion over every beast in the land, but for man, there was not a matching strength or power to be his partner. And when God says, ‘It is not good that the man should be alone, I will make him a helper as his partner,’ what is really being said is that He’ll make him an equal to ease his loneliness.”
“I guess that makes sense,” said the boy.
“And sound marriage advice in terms of what to look for in a partner,” said the man. “But where she was brought into the world as an equal, she abused her influence in this way by drawing her husband into sin, so God established subordination.”
The boy nodded quietly.
“What were you going to say before I cut you off?” said the man.
“I was gonna ask what kind of punishment is death anyway? They barely know what it was to be alive at this point. Was it supposed to be frightening? How would they have any kind of instinct to avoid this so-called ‘death.’ Neither had seen anything die before. Shit, I would have gone straight for the tree too. But instead they’re punished, and now our whole relationship with God is based on a lie, or at least manipulation. This is the birth of daddy issues if you ask me.”
“I’d like to point out that while they didn’t die immediately, in the spiritual sense their sin caused separation from the source of life. And in the physical sense, this decision led them to the slow dying that comes with mortality. Remember, they had permission to eat from every other tree in the garden, including the tree of life, in which case they would have lived forever. But because they chose to eat from the tree they were told not to eat first, He cast them out before they had their chance at immortality. So in the day they chose sin, they also chose mortality, or death.”
“Wow,” said the boy, “I never would have caught that. Here I thought you were too wrapped up in the story of becoming one flesh, and I’m over here like, ‘Fool me with the old death-for-suffering switcheroo once, shame on you…’”
The old man laughed, then he pointed to the board. “I think it’s your turn.”
“Alright, alright,” said the boy. “Finish reading while I find a move.”
So the man read on:
And the Lord God made garments of skin for Adam and his wife, and clothed them.
Then the Lord God said, “Behold, the man has become like one of Us, knowing good and evil, and now, he might reach out with his hand, and take fruit also from the tree of life, and eat, and live forever.” Therefore the Lord God sent him out of the garden of Eden, to till the ground from which he was taken.
So He drove the man out, and at the east of the Garden of Eden He stationed the cherubim and the flaming sword, which turned every direction to guard the way to the tree of life.6
The boy slid a bishop across the board and a large grin spread across his face. “I think you’ve got a decision to make.”
The man looked down at the board and stroked his beard to consider what the boy had done.
“There seems to be some trickery when God commands Adam not to eat from the tree though,” said the boy. “It sends a mixed message when He tells them, ‘Don’t eat from it, for the day you do, you’ll die.’ He doesn’t say, ‘If you try to eat it,’ He clearly states, ‘The day you eat it.’ You have to wonder if God planted that seed in their minds to set them up for failure, ya know? Then He could go ahead and kick ’em out of paradise and make it seem like it was their fault, making fear the basis of their relationship moving forward.”
The man’s gaze remained on the board, so the boy went on.
“He seems to know Adam would hear ‘don’t eat from the tree’ but Eve would hear ‘for the day you do,’ and she’ll see this as inevitable with a why-put-off-until-tomorrow state of mind.”
The man moved his castle and immediately the boy slipped his bishop across the board and took his knight.
“You know,” said the boy, placing the knight gently to the side, “I heard this rabbi interpret the story once. He said God’s intention was to have Adam and Eve go down to the lowest world to do His work. After He brought them into existence and gave them instructions, Adam says to Eve, ‘Did God say not to eat it, or did he say someday you will eat it?’ And Eve says, ‘God is asking us to choose. Don’t eat from it and live, or eat from it and die.’ Adam laughs and says, ‘Well that’s a pretty easy choice,’ to which Eve replies, ‘No, He’s hoping we eat it.’ Confused, Adam says, ‘How do you know that?’ So Eve replies, ‘Because our job is in the lowest world, and this is not the lowest world. There’s a world in which people die, a world of mortality. That’s the lowest world, and that’s where our job is.’ So Adam says, ‘But God put us here. That can’t be a mistake.’ And Eve goes, ‘It’s not. God brings you to where your job is, but you have to volunteer your service.’ Then Adam says, ‘You know, that makes a lot of sense.’ And so they eat from the tree and the work begins.”
Removing a piece from the board, the man said, “I’d say that makes Eve sound like a smart young lady.”
“Sure does,” said the boy, peering at what remained. “Amazing how in one version she’s blamed for all of suffering, and in another she’s full of wisdom.”
“Yes,” said the man, “but from what we can see in the Scripture, that’s not how the story goes.”
“That’s because there isn’t any dialogue recorded between them,” said the boy. “But should we assume the first husband and wife never actually spoke to each other? Anyway, I also love how when God says, ‘Have you eaten from the tree of which I commanded you not to eat,’ everyone assumes He’s shouting, with lightning bolts coming out of His eyes, full of vinegar and ready to smite somebody.”
“Now here I agree with you,” said the man, “but let’s hear what you have to say first.”
“Well the text doesn’t portray anger if you read it plainly,” said the boy. “It could be read as a tone of normal conversation, proud even. Like, ‘How did you figure out I wanted you to eat from the tree even though I sent you a conflicting message?’ And instead of blaming Eve, maybe Adam was giving her credit when he said, ‘The woman whom You gave to be with me, she gave me fruit from the tree, and I ate.’”
“Never considered it that way,” said the man.
“And maybe what God meant by, ‘It’s not good that the man should be alone so I’ll make him a helper,’ was that He knew Adam would never figure it out on his own.”
“Mhm,” said the man, patiently waiting with his hands folded before him.
“Maybe the punishments weren’t punishments at all, but more like, ‘Hey, just understand, if you choose to go down to the lower world, there will be things like pain in childbirth and suffering when tilling the soil for food. It ain’t like up here where you’re lounging around picking fruit off trees in paradise.’”
“It certainly paints a different image than the conventional understanding,” said the man. “I believe it’s your move.”
“I know, I know,” said the boy, scanning the board. “But apparently the English idea of original ‘sin’ is a translation of the Hebrew word ‘het,’ which doesn’t mean what we think it means. This rabbi said it’s something like ‘a step down,’ meaning they chose to step down into the lower world.”
“So why did God tell them not to eat the fruit in this version,” said the man, “if that’s what He really wanted?”
“Before we get to that, what were you gonna say when you agreed with me?”
“Well, I never saw God’s reaction as anger either,” said the man, “more like heartbreak.”
“How so?”
“Well, God had planned for His children to live with Him in paradise in the presence of His love, and instead they chose to disobey. Instead of just ignorance and bliss, they could now see evil, recognize their defiance, and so they became ashamed. God is upset that His children now have to live this way. But rather than casting them out of paradise as an act of punishment, I saw His sending them away as an act of mercy, for if they also ate from the tree of life, then they would be immortal in a state of shame in the presence of God. In other words,” said the man, “they would have turned their paradise into Hell. To cut them off from the garden, to have the cherubim guard the tree of life, to spare them from this self-created eternity by acting on free will, God allows them to exist in a relationship with Him in a different manner. Only the serpent gets ‘cursed,’” said the man. “Adam and Eve are merely taught lessons about the consequence of disobeying God, and how love requires sacrifice.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Well, Eve’s sacrifice becomes pain in childbirth, to bring forth the children she’ll love. And Adam will toil in sweat through thorns and thistles, to provide for the family he’ll love. And God makes them garments out of skins, sacrificing His beloved animals in order to clothe the children He loves.”
“I see what you’re saying,” said the boy.
“But now that Adam and Eve have the knowledge of both good and evil, there’s no return to an unconscious paradise. There’s a lot of work on the horizon to prepare for an unpredictable future. They recognize their vulnerability, as you pointed out, as well as their mortality, as well as the vulnerability and mortality of their children for whom they’ll need to care for. So a lot of responsibility is placed on their shoulders when it comes to God’s command to ‘be fruitful and multiply, to fill the earth and subdue it.’ The present must now be sacrificed to work for security in the future.”
“Right,” said the boy. “Self-awareness separates us from the animals, but there’s a price to pay for waking up.”
“Precisely,” said the man. “The end of ignorant bliss in blindly living in the present paradise and the beginning of history as we know it.”
“Mmm,” said the boy with a nod. “But why was God heartbroken then? If He wanted us to go forth and multiply, wouldn’t it be good to have the foresight to see what makes us vulnerable?”
“I think the heartbreak comes from the knowledge of evil,” said the man.
“Go on.”
“Well, in recognizing what makes you vulnerable, you can also recognize what makes others vulnerable.”
“Okay…”
“Well, now that we’ve listened to that little devil whispering in our ear once, we’re apt to do it again, and therefore exists the possibility of exploiting the vulnerabilities of others. God was upset because the human propensity for evil was born in that moment, and now He’s sent it off into the world He’s just created.”
“Ohhh,” said the boy. “That’s good stuff right there.”
“So why did God tell them not to eat the fruit in your version?” said the man.
“Well, it’s not my version,” said the boy. “I try to keep my opinion out of it.”
“Fair enough,” said the man. “Same question though.”
“I think it was more like, ‘Look, you really don’t want to eat from that tree, because when you do, you’ll step down into a world of pain and have to see both good and evil as I do. Up here it’s all nice and rosy, but if you’re willing, I could really use your help down there. I just want you to choose for yourselves.’”
“I see,” said the old man, offering an open palm toward the board.
“It was more of a, ‘I don’t want you to suffer, and you probably don’t want to suffer, but I could use your help if you’re willing to suffer.’” The boy jumped his knight to a spot near the man’s king, and the man’s eyebrows perked up. “We can even weave your view in there so when they make their choice, God gives them clothing as gratitude. Or rather, they sacrifice the immediate pleasures of paradise and agree to suffer for the greater good of mankind, so their sacrifice is rewarded.”
“I’m not sure that’s exactly how it goes,” said the man, still examining the boy’s move, “but at least it sounds nice.”
“Who knows?” said the boy. “What version are you reading from anyway?”
“New King James,” said the man.
“Have you tried another one?”
“Not really. My wife gave me this one years ago, so there’s sentimental value.”
“You might be surprised at what different translations have to offer,” said the boy.
“I’d like to think I’m more attached to the book itself and less to the minor tweaks of language inside,” said the man.
“You say they’re minor, yet it’s the only version you’ve tried in all these years. I’ll bring another translation for you next time.”
“That’s fine,” said the man. “I can’t imagine they’re so different it changes the storyline.”
“I don’t know,” said the boy. “I’ve heard the English versions described as ‘problematic’ at times. I’ve heard the ancient authors’ works were translated by a couple of English snobs saying, ‘I don’t particularly care for this, so I’m gonna add that instead.’”
“What are some examples?” said the man.
“Here’s one you won’t like,” said the boy, pressing himself up to peer into the pages. “Can you go back to the part about cursing the snake?”
“Sure,” said the man, turning the book so they could both see the page. “What are you looking for?”
“Right there,” said the boy, pointing to the verse.
And I will put enmity
Between you and the woman,
And between your seed and her Seed.
He shall bruise your head,
And you shall bruise His heel.7
“You see where the S in ‘Seed’ and the H in ‘His’ are capitalized?”
“Mhm.”
“Why do you think that is?”
“Why, that’s a nod to Christ coming down the line,” said the man.
“Right, but Jesus wouldn’t exist for another couple thousand years after that was written.”
“And what’s your point?”
“Oh nothing,” said the boy, lowering himself down again. “I just think it’s interesting they don’t appear with translators who can read ancient Hebrew, that’s all.”
The old man stayed silent, but his jaw clenched visibly.
“Look, I think it’s a clever little nod by believers that Christ was the Messiah,” said the boy, “but on the topic of honest translations, you have to admit that’s a big creative liberty.”
“Well,” said the man, a bit stiff in his ways, “New King James is the translation by those who believe Christ was the Messiah.”
“Look, I’m not saying the interpretation is wrong,” said the boy. “Like I said, I try to keep opinion out of it. But as far as translations go, I thought it was interesting to point out. That’s all.”
“Mhm,” said the man, his demeanor melting slowly.
“Look, I’ll bring the other book tomorrow so we can read side-by-side,” said the boy. “But another thing that stuck out was replacing the word ‘semen’ with things like ‘seed’ or ‘offspring,’ so we don’t burn the eyes of prudes or whatever.”
“I see,” said the man, shifting uncomfortably.
“I just don’t understand who has the audacity to take what is supposed to be the Word of God and say, ‘Ya know, I don’t really care for God’s choice here. I think I’ll supersede the Almighty and write my own.’ Who does that, ya know? If the word means semen and we have a word for semen, then stick to semen!” said the boy, playfully pounding a fist on the table. “No pun intended.”
“That’s crude,” said the man.
“See what I mean about the prudes?”
The old man exhaled a forced laugh through his nose as he moved a piece on the board.
“Finally,” said the boy. “Take long enough?”
“Yeah, yeah,” said the man. “Your turn.”
The boy stood up to heave his backpack over his shoulder, and the old man stared at him, confused. “That was already checkmate,” said the boy. “I just wanted to school you a little longer.” The man shot a glance down at the board again as the boy said, “I’ve gotta eat something before I get some work done. See you tomorrow?”
Without looking up, searching for a mistake, the man said, “I’ll be here,” but the boy was already gone.