“So, what’s with all the tables?” he asks after a minute. I look at him, look down at my full hands, and back to him again, blinking at him like he’s stupid. I know he’s not but filling the silence with not-yes-or-no questions is dumber than a mute boy. I can say that; it’s my disability, and I can be as un-PC as I want to be when it’s convenient for me.
