Or rather, at the chair.
Then he shrugged.
“Not my problem.”
His wife adjusted her sunglasses and looked toward the field.
I felt heat rise into my face.
“Your wife’s purse is literally sitting where his wheelchair goes.”
The woman gave me a small smile.
“It’s just a bag.”
“Then move it, and yourselves.”
The man’s expression tightened.
“Lady, don’t start.”
“I’m not starting anything. We bought these seats.”
“So did we.”
“No. You bought seats somewhere else.”
He leaned back.
“The view here is better.”
I stared at him.
“The view?”
“Listen, I’ve had season tickets for fifteen years! I’ve spent enough money in this place to buy half the stadium. I’m not giving up this view of Hayes’s last home game. Somebody can find your kid another spot.”
“These are the seats he can use!”
