05
516 Words
The stranger’s eyes lingered on Miki for a beat too long, a dark, calculating storm brewing behind his sharp features. But he didn't move.
He simply tucked his niece’s coloring book under his arm and steered her toward the door, his shadow stretching long and menacing across the checkered floor before disappearing into the bright afternoon.
Arthur didn’t relax. His hand moved from the chair to Miki’s shoulder, his fingers digging into the thin fabric of the polo shirt.
"Who was that, Arthur?" Miki asked, his voice muffled by a large spoonful of vanilla. He was swinging his legs again, the heels of his sneakers thumping rhythmically against the metal chair.
"He was very tall. Like a giant from my book."
"Just a man, Miki," Arthur snapped, his voice losing its sugary veneer for a split second. "A man who doesn't matter. Finish your ice cream. We’re leaving."
Miki flinched at the tone, his spoon hovering halfway to his mouth. The "lively" light in his eyes dimmed, replaced by a flickering uncertainty. When Arthur was sharp, the world got scary.
"I... I'm not finished," Miki whispered, looking down at the melting puddle of brown and white. "There's still a chocolate bit at the bottom."
"Now, Miki."
Arthur stood up, his chair screeching against the tile. He didn't wait for Miki to gather himself. He reached down and gripped Miki’s wrist, pulling him upward. The boy stumbled, his small shorts riding up his thighs as he was yanked from his seat.
"Ow," Miki whimpered, though he didn't pull away. He couldn't. His mind was already retreating, tucking the pain into a little box labeled 'Be Quiet'. "The chocolate..."
"You’re being greedy," Arthur hissed, leaning down so his face was inches from Miki's. "And greedy boys don't get stories before bed. Do you want to lose your bedtime story, too?"
Miki’s lower lip trembled. The idea of losing the one moment of peace in his day—the moment where he could pretend the world was safe—was too much. He shook his head frantically, his messy dark curls bouncing.
"No. I'll be good. See? I'm standing up."
Arthur smoothed Miki’s hair back, his touch turning mocking and "gentle" once again. "That’s my brave little prince. Let’s get you home. The sun is getting too bright for skin as soft as yours."
As they walked out of the shop, Miki looked back at the unfinished ice cream. In his mind, he wasn't twenty-three.
He was just a boy who had lost his treat, being led away by a man he was supposed to trust, while the memory of a "giant" in a charcoal suit flickered at the edge of his consciousness like a dream he couldn't quite catch.
He didn't notice the black SUV idling across the street, the windows tinted so dark that no one could see the "giant" inside, watching Miki’s every step with a gaze that was no longer cold, but burning with a very dangerous kind of curiosity.
...
- Writer
