The Intent
A curl was on his thin lip as he watched the young boy. The child’s mother was wiping his lip clean from the ice cream she had allowed him to enjoy moments before. She seemed dedicated to her work, oblivious to his continued observation of the scene. Three weeks he had been watching them, here at the park, Wednesdays at the library, Saturdays on the ball field. She always had him dressed in the same red coat. She always took a snack for the two of them and sat under the same willow tree while they ate it. Her home was a nice brownstone style townhouse. Her husband left work every day at 6 am sharp. The young mother and son were alone together in the house for the next 3 hours before emerging for …