The boy is a teenager, but also a boy. He sits in the passenger seat of a truck and dances in his spot. He sit-dances with the best of them, though he’s dancing alone. As his father stops at the stoplight–even as cars file around and pause nearby–he’s punching at the air, he’s wiggling and moving. He peers over his shoulder and out the window for half a moment, only to have it confirmed that people are watching. My brother and I have been smiling at his unchecked glee, but now he’s been checked. He turns back and ceases. The music still plays, and he clearly wants to keep dancing, but he hesitates.

My brother and I keep watching him. I’ve taken off my sunglasses, so when he glances again at our car, he sees that our smiles are encouraging. We’re not a cause for stage fright, but a supportive…