Thing, I dunno
To set the scene, let’s say there is a man in his kitchen. The sun is heading down and the room is dim. He hasn’t risen to turn the lights on. He is sitting at a stool around the island, head in hand. He is thinking. He has dreaded this day coming ever since she told him she was pregnant. Now that it is here, he realizes he could never have prepared himself.
He can still see his son’s face as a woman in a suit leads him away, telling him that it is for the best. That they are only protecting him. And when the boy looks confusedly up at her, she claims it will all become clear soon.
The boy’s mother comes down the hall and kisses the man, gently, like forgiveness. She rubs a hand over his shoulder and doesn’t say anything. He can’t help but think he’s been blessed with her, as their lover slides into the standing-sitting-together pile they’ve made. She cries, because the boy was her son too. Their home seems emptier without him.
He can still see his son’s face as a woman in a suit leads him away, telling him that it is for the best. That they are only protecting him. And when the boy looks confusedly up at her, she claims it will all become clear soon.
The boy’s mother comes down the hall and kisses the man, gently, like forgiveness. She rubs a hand over his shoulder and doesn’t say anything. He can’t help but think he’s been blessed with her, as their lover slides into the standing-sitting-together pile they’ve made. She cries, because the boy was her son too. Their home seems emptier without him.