What Makes You Weird?

I have a clear memory from when I was nine or ten years old of being in theback seatof a carand looking over to my right. There was a man driving next to us, and he was just staring straight ahead of himself, not looking at me, not doing anything at all but waiting for the light to turn green. But he didn’t look bored. He looked preoccupied. He was thinking about something, but I would never know what it was. I would never know this man. He would never know me. I didn’t matter to him.

It struc...