“Are you ready, Mr. Karlsson?” The ESPN producer leans in, smiling in my face. All thoughts of this morning’s drills flash from my mind as I look up. “Yes.” They’ve been rearranging the lights for the last ten minutes. All the while, Teddy and I have sat side by side on this leather sofa, silently waiting. He’s wearing my favorite cable-knit sweater again. His hair is down, framing his face. They put a powder on his cheeks that dulls some of his freckles. I don’t like it.
