Cyrus’s gaze flickers in my direction, and then he tells the attendant something in Chinese. Apparently, he’s asked to buy half the trolley, because she brightens and starts handing over a packet of almost every item, until Cyrus runs out of room on his lap and has to spread the mini mountain of snacks out on his tray. “Here,” Cyrus says, tossing one of the Choco Pies to me. He doesn’t make any move to eat the food himself.
