I first spotted the culprit with another boy the same age. They were drinking frothy drinks in Starbucks cups at the Barnes & Noble café. One lifted the lid and licked it clean, while the other looked on with delight. All of a sudden, I was craving a tower of whipped cream.
Later, the father called to his son because it was time to go. But the boy was occupied by the sugar counter and trash cans. “Hang on!” he called to his father. Then he lifted his shirt, stuffed four or five straws in his shorts and ran away. I pretended not to notice.