A Night on the Town
The air was crisp, shoes clicked on the pavement, voices murmured in the crowd, and the glow of the streetlamps bounced off pale faces. George's plump cheeks shined yellow against the lamp. The hint of golden in his blue irises dazzled the fellow streetwalker.
"George," the gentle voice of his mother reached him. His eyelashes thumped against his cheeks. His breath halted as he turned his head. His mother's face stretched slowly into a smile. Her eyes crinkled, cheeks squished, and teeth glimmered. "My little prince," she whispered.
Her hand brushed his blonde locks from his eyes. "We'll need those tickets. So hold on tight." Her eyes pointed to the two play tickets in his hand. He strictly nodded his head. They paused in line; George looked up to his mother. His eyes quizzical and earnest.
"A job fitting for a man?" His voice quivered revealing his young age. This time his mother's smile curled at the corners of her lips.
"A job fitting for a man," she repeated. George flashed his teeth at her. His hand tightened around the tickets. His mother's hand swept at the back of his head. "A man in the making, my love," she whispered.
