While our bodies felt solid and were sensate to the warm, cheerful ambiance of the restaurant, our spirits seethed, frothed, pounded against the cracks of our beings. If we had somehow been made less substantial, we could be everywhere at once. We could roam without end. It was as if all the anguished whys and whats of childhood were close at hand; we guarded against the kinds of tears that adults learn not to shed. Why do I have to go to bed? Why can’t I live forever? It was hard not to look at each other in the eye, for we knew what we’d see there. I don’t want to go home.