Brotherhood

I was wearing a bright red tshirt that advertised Taco Bravo, a two restaurant fast food chain in the San Francisco Bay Area. The line I was standing in coiled back and forth in front of the ride, and I watched the same people over and over. I noticed a young man staring at my shirt every time we passed each other, looking at the shirt, then me, then my small boy. We curved around and passed each other again, and he leaned in over the chain that separated us, careful to keep out of earshot of the boy, and quietly said "Taco Bravo, motherf-----". I nodded, smiling. This guy knows.