When Simon was four years old, the men in blue took Arthur away for good. “You wait here,” his brother had said, one foot already through their apartment door. “There’s a bad man out there. I’ve got to go talk to him.” Aside from the kids and the dogs, there was someone else who came by when Simon snuck out onto the streets. He couldn’t remember too clearly, but a man’s face had smiled down at him one day and asked what he was doing. “Who are you?” Simon had asked. For some reason, the man thought this was funny. “Better? What’s better?”