Pree
“Oh no,” I murmur in panic when seeing a boy running down the old stairs.
“Chesta, stop it. Come back here.” The woman in dark brown dyed hair shouts from the other side of the stairs. I can’t blame her for not looking after her son. After all, she has her hand full. She is carrying a little girl around three years old in one hand while another is holding on to the railing.
“Blah. Blah. Blah. Mommy can’t catch me this time.” The boy named Chesta sticks out his tongue at his mom as he ignores her warning.
“Don’t do it! It’s dangerous. You will slip!” The guard yells from below.
Again, the boy pays no heed.
I know kids are mischievous, but this is a serious problem. He could have fallen and got a severe injury.
When he reaches my level, I can’t help but say to him, “Hey, little b
