There’s a pianist I know whose work is not very appealing to me and who talks to me sometimes as though we come from the same place but we really don’t, it’s awkward, feels manipulative. But some I do have that in common with, know this piano thing very similarly, with them I feel we share a secret. My daughter was relieved when she got her second shot. Relieved that it didn’t hurt because her friend at school said it hurt more than the first one and then she had that soundbite stuck in her mind. There was no reassuring her. As we left, a seven year old boy was crying, terrorized about how much the needle will hurt. His mother kneeling by him hoping soft talk would reassure him, the father pissed and walking away but making sure to curse his son and leave the largest guilt trip possible. Only an adult could wield this type of psychological twist to a kid, only a premier adult asshole. My daughter is usually shy with strangers but she approached the boy and told him it’s ok, it doesn’t hurt much. You could see the recognition in his face, like a lifeguard jumped into the pool and there will be no drowning. It pleased me and the boy’s mother a lot. It was the real currency he needed and it didn’t matter he was seven, it’s obvious the difference between who you don’t need and a comrade.