|More from Fruipit||Hurt/Comfort||G||Here||One-shot|
13th October, 2012
Busy, people rushing, faster than they should.
The small boy looks through windows, pulled along by his kin, younger by two.
Parents in a line, waiting, time to leave—sun is setting.
Old people, their smell permeates the vehicle.
Eight years old, six years, both noses wrinkling.
Mother smiling, Father grimacing.
Grimacing at the smell. Smiling at the boys.
Eldest looks up, warm inside, cold outside.
Youngest looks up, needs to pee.
Father ruffles his sons hair.
Gives scarf to eldest. He is warm, cheeks turning red.
Their stop, leave quickly.
Cool air hits the family, hurries down the street.
Get inside—forgot cabbage for dinner.
Mother has to leave—her family need the food.
Father has to protect her.
They leave, telling eldest to look after youngest.
He smiles at the responsibility.
Closes door behind parents, sees them walk down the path.
The wind picks up.
He remembers the scarf—Father must be cold.
Turns to youngest, tells him to stay.
He runs out the door, through the gate.
Parents are in the alleyway—short cut to the tram station.
He is running to them, holding scarf out.
Voices, raised, urgent.
Father standing in front of Mother.
She moves arms, defensive wall begins forming
The wall crumbles
His parents aren't standing anymore.
Eldest runs home, willing to forget.
Home, a beacon welcoming.
No longer welcoming, already it's cold.
Brother comes out, smiling.
He peed on his own.
Asks where mother is.
He can't talk.
Can't hurt his brother.
Curls in bed, isn't hungry.
Brother doesn't understand.
He is worried.
Looks in pantry, grabs food.
Gives it to his brother.
Through pain, he can still sense love.
He welcomes youngest into his arms.
They are together.
They are crying.
But they have each other.
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