He didn't know what was worst, wide eyes verging on tears or the moment they were to turned his direction, bottomless unseeing, no longer full of that goofy humor. No longer seeing him.
The measurements, magnanimous: 6 cups sugar, equal parts, cane, beet, white, brown. 2 grams each, fennel, cinnamon, pepper, cloves, ginger. 'Niceness' set an even harder journey for shiny black shoes and a slowly grimy growing white lab coat: 5 gallons, by blind faith, of the collected water droplets used to create a makeshift rainbow on the lawn of a children's hospital in 108 degree weather. 5 stuffed unicorns, and two baby dolls, long loved by their owners and donated to a thrift shop, all funds from their purchase going to finding a cure for the Dutch Elm disease in the oldest tree in Townsville. 2.5 seconds the recorded laughter of 3 four year olds receiving a puppy on Christmas morning. Stew, whip, boil, lightly stir. Stirring..tirelessly stirring..for the better part of a week.
But all he saw was the months of no playtime, the missed walks, the skipped sign language lessons and logical reasoning puzzles. And most unforgivable of all, the scratched yellow plastic of the bottom of his empty bowl on the nights where a hard metal desk replaced his masters' pillow.
Ruined.
For the first time in all of his long four years of life, Jojo stopped playing.
Master...no, Professor, didn't answer his bared teeth, the once loud screech that now seemed a hollow echo.
His furry hand found the edge of the huge bowl as the bent figure slumped from the room like the shadow of a heartbroken ghost.
Within the glowing mixture the shards of broken glass pulsed, dipping under the weight of viscous black...glowing?
Large brown eyes grew, taking on a pink shine.
A red bow, a tiny limb...a secret he could keep...