Quack, quack, quack. I followed the sound and looked out of the window: a little toddler was wiggling on the sidewalk with a pair of new sandals. He was little chubby, tried to balance his weight from one foot to another. He looked like a cuddly duck. Followed him was a woman in her 60s, 10 steps away.
“Be careful! Slow down, Cary,” said she.
Something sharp pinched me. A grandma? A grandson? I would never have a chance to…
Quack, quack, quack. The noise was closer, under my window. The cuddly duck stopped and looked up. I took a step away from the window. A cloud just moved above me and a wound inside opened up. I went back to my room to lick it.
