Not yet finished...
I reached my arm through the opened subway door and gently placed my hand on his shoulder. He was maybe 8 years old, possibly 9, and tears were streaming down his face.
"That man was wrong." I told him.
His tears fell quicker as he started to give his defense, but what he didn't know is that he didn't need one. I knew the door would be closing any second. I interupted him, and again told him. "I want you to know, that man was wrong."
I pulled my arm out of the subway car and the door closed between us.