While Don waited in line, Patrick tugged at his sleeve.
"Daddy, daddy, can I play in the habitrail?" he asked.
The McDonald's playscape was surrounded by a red and yellow safety fence. "Sure son," Don said. "just watch out for the Habitroll."
"The Habitroll?" The boy stared at his father.
"Just kidding. Go on son, I'll call you when dinner's ready."
Five minutes passed before Don called out the restaurant door, "Patrick, let's eat."
The silence was interrupted by brief, furious scrambling, like claws seeking purchase on slick plastic.
Don hesitated, then started into the playscape. "Patrick?" he called. "Son?"
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