And now here's Souvankham Thammavongsa reading The Size of Things by Samanta Schweblin, translated from the Spanish by Megan McDowell.

The Size of Things.

I knew that Enrique Duvall had inherited a lot of money, and also that though he was sometimes spotted with women, he still lived with his mother.

On Sundays, he cruised around the plaza in his convertible, self-absorbed, never looking at or greeting any of his neighbors, and then he'd disappear until the following weekend.

I'd kept the toy store I'd inherited from my father, and one day I caught Duvall in the street peering dubiously in through the display window of my shop.

I mentioned this to Mirta, my wife, who said that maybe I'd got him confused with someone else.

But then she saw him herself.

Do you think the story is saying anything larger, more sweeping about parenthood or childhood?