That observation floated, gossamer alphabet soup that came and went, a flicker that blipped; errant thoughts were always like that in public places (for example, the guy behind the counter was definitely thinking of his husband). Dan bristled a bit, but he supposed he shouldn't have been surprised. When he was a kid and exhibited behaviors out of the norm, doctors thought he was autistic. Or mute (he didn't talk much, anyway). They thought he didn't have any friends because he was just one weird little person; they didn't understand the Shining, nor did anyone believe him.
And while he was perfectly willing to admit that he was awkward, he could tell that there was something about Richie too. Something dark, yes, but beyond that - it didn't make any sense to dance around it. "You have the Shining?" he said, though it came out like a question. "Has anyone ever told you?"
Asked as he sipped his coffee, blowing on it a little first to cool it.