Three line tales: The kid

This is for Sonya’s three line tales prompt.

The photo is ©Rosan Harmens

I passed the kid every day on the way to work, already looking like a derelict, already a hopeless wreck of a human being.

This morning he caught my eye, his gaze abnormally bright and piercing, as I hurried past, almost reached out a hand, then turned the gesture into a shrug, leaving me with a feeling of guilt, though what could I do?

I gathered my things together and made for the door as evening shadows filled the car park, and as I reached to turn off the light, a movement made me turn and the sound of heels drumming against the filing cabinet—he was there, waiting for me, as I had half-feared he would be.

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A complicated grief

 

Every man, some woman’s son,

Every death-dealing, criminal, toe-rag,

Every fanatical, murdering bastard,

Once a laughing toddler, a smiling child,

And in one woman’s eyes will always be,

The clear-eyed, polite, obedient boy,

Who carried the groceries up five flights of stairs,

And watched the stars on moonless nights.