The water distorts the vision of a small little boy peering over the
counter, barely showing his bright emerald green eyes. Raven locks of hair
tumble over his forehead, and cover his top eyelids. Such a quiet reserve
compared to the blond, round boy, of the same age as the other.
The other boy, Dudley, I believe his mother called him, tortures one of our new kittens, shouting all the while asking for one. If I had the choice, I'd refuse the purchase, should the woman attempt to buy the kitten, but I'd be out of a job if I did that.
"Boy!" I heard the woman call the other small tyke.
I could see him cringe at the name, but turns to look at her all the same.
"Get away from the counter!"
"Yes Aunt Petunia," he replies quietly, walking away from the counter.
Silently he walks through my store, calmly, as if his aunt had said nothing of the sorts. His eyes linger a moment on the kitten that his cousin is tormenting, and then, he catches a glimpse of me watching him through the fish tank. Shock fills his small face, as I smile at him. I hope I haven't alarmed him, but then again, the water does distort one's vision, no matter who you are.
"Hello," I say quietly, hoping not to catch the twig like woman's attention. "I'm Elena, and you are?"
"Harry Potter," he replies quickly and dares a look at his aunt.
The woman is hardly paying any mind to the boy, and silently I think of how I would love to have such a well-mannered little boy in my home. Single life has its ups and its downs.
"Well Harry Potter, glad to meet you."
He's paying me no mind now, as he watches the goldfish, and the angelfish swim across the tank. He laughs and his aunt darts a glare at the two of us. So much for laughter in the house, or perhaps, it's only this boy that cannot laugh. He dares a look at me. And I only half paying attention to the woman, this aunt of his, smile down at him.
This little boy, no older than five I assume, seems not to be allowed any fun or joy in his young life. I begin to wonder what this woman would do if I questioned her about taking the child off her hands. I would never dare to do such a thing, but the thought itself, makes me want him more, such small hands, a pale face, thick beautiful hair, and big bright eyes but a solemn face. There is no sign now that he had even laughed, even for a moment. This aunt of his has him trained well. If I knew who it was I had to speak to, who it was I had to pay to get this boy away from this family of his, I would do it in a heart beat. No child should have to live this way. Every child has a right to laughter and fun.
The other boy, Dudley, I believe his mother called him, tortures one of our new kittens, shouting all the while asking for one. If I had the choice, I'd refuse the purchase, should the woman attempt to buy the kitten, but I'd be out of a job if I did that.
"Boy!" I heard the woman call the other small tyke.
I could see him cringe at the name, but turns to look at her all the same.
"Get away from the counter!"
"Yes Aunt Petunia," he replies quietly, walking away from the counter.
Silently he walks through my store, calmly, as if his aunt had said nothing of the sorts. His eyes linger a moment on the kitten that his cousin is tormenting, and then, he catches a glimpse of me watching him through the fish tank. Shock fills his small face, as I smile at him. I hope I haven't alarmed him, but then again, the water does distort one's vision, no matter who you are.
"Hello," I say quietly, hoping not to catch the twig like woman's attention. "I'm Elena, and you are?"
"Harry Potter," he replies quickly and dares a look at his aunt.
The woman is hardly paying any mind to the boy, and silently I think of how I would love to have such a well-mannered little boy in my home. Single life has its ups and its downs.
"Well Harry Potter, glad to meet you."
He's paying me no mind now, as he watches the goldfish, and the angelfish swim across the tank. He laughs and his aunt darts a glare at the two of us. So much for laughter in the house, or perhaps, it's only this boy that cannot laugh. He dares a look at me. And I only half paying attention to the woman, this aunt of his, smile down at him.
This little boy, no older than five I assume, seems not to be allowed any fun or joy in his young life. I begin to wonder what this woman would do if I questioned her about taking the child off her hands. I would never dare to do such a thing, but the thought itself, makes me want him more, such small hands, a pale face, thick beautiful hair, and big bright eyes but a solemn face. There is no sign now that he had even laughed, even for a moment. This aunt of his has him trained well. If I knew who it was I had to speak to, who it was I had to pay to get this boy away from this family of his, I would do it in a heart beat. No child should have to live this way. Every child has a right to laughter and fun.