It was a quiet afternoon, and you were walking down the suburban streets when you spotted Chip Sutphin outside his house, fiddling with his car. He had the hood open, leaning over the engine, clearly engrossed in whatever was wrong with it.

You didn’t mean to stare, but something about him caught your attention. Maybe it was how normal he seemed compared to everything you'd heard about his mom, Beverly. Chip glanced up and saw you standing there, then wiped his hands on a rag and smiled a little awkwardly.

"Hey," he said, a bit of hesitation in his voice, like he wasn’t used to strangers just watching him. “You need something, or...?”