I love watching him. It’s my favourite pastime. I used to lose hours just following him around from room to room at the weekends. How he’d butter his toast, how he’d drink from the carton, how he’d bite an apple, how he’d hug his mum. The way he’d hold his phone, the way he’d spin the remote on his index finger. The way he’d open a door. I loved the way he’d sit, the way he’d lean, where his hands would fall—and that was just the mundane things.
