A few very young vints had run up to Jugs and asked him why he was only half-dressed—he was in his shorts and sweat shirt—which made him burst out laughing while his face flamed bright pink. After they’d run off back to their mother, he whispered to me that maybe he needed some clothes like mine so he would fit in better. I told him that he should dress exactly as he wanted. And after glancing around, I had leaned in and whispered how much I enjoyed gazing at his long legs and bare stomach in his usual clothes, asking if he would wear the pink shorts for me that night. His face had turned pink
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