The line to the bank teller slogged along. I looked at my hands. I looked at the floor. Then I heard a muffled belch and saw your face burrowed in your mother’s shoulder, eyes focused on me, brow furrowed quizzically. I proceeded with a procession of funny faces. You looked startled and turned away, then turned back with two jagged teeth dividing your smile, chins folding in on one another with a Hitchcock-esque precision. We traded faces until your mother answered to the call of “next” and slobber descended onto her shoulder.