“Shoes!” Mom yells. I freeze, then glance over my shoulder at Mom, who walks toward me, smiling, my chukka boots in her hands. “You always loved to run barefoot, Viggo, I know. But I think you’re going to want shoes for this.” “Thanks, Mom.” I smile as she gives me a kiss on the cheek, then take them from her, dropping the boots to the floor and stepping into them, before I turn toward the door.
