──────────❥─────────── My Q&A is up! It's on a separate book I've titled "Q&A". The questions I managed to collect from you all was 12.
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My mouth gaped, before closing once more. Should I help these random kids that I found in the park that look oddly familiar to me but I cannot, for the life of me, place where? Maybe not; I'm going to.
"Well, what do you three need help with? Are you lost?" I asked, crouching further down to suit their shorter level of height. My eyes scanned the area, but I could not, for the life of me see anyone who seemed to resemble the three kids before me.
The little boy closed his eyes and shook his rounded head, black hair swishing from side to side. "Nope," he said plainly, "We need help deciding who gets the ice cream. We only have enough for one of us. And we all want it but we can't all get one. See?"
The boy held up the five-dollar bill for me to see.
Dixie nodded her head and trotted closer to my hunched-over figure, modestly lacing her small hands behind the striped shirt that she wore. "On the way here, we gave money to this man who said that he needed the money for his happy medicine. Mama gives us medicine to make us feel better so we thought we could make him less smelly and sad too!"
I mean, at least they had good intentions?
I chuckled, awkwardly brushing off the child and her bluntness. "Well, could you sha—"
"NO!" they all yelled to my face before I could even finish the word, the staring two taking a substantial step closer while the other girl temporarily poked her head from above the long grass.
A small wince came from my mouth, as I wasn't expecting their answer of my suggestion to be so . . . enthused.
The blue-eyed boy took a formal stance and cleared his throat. "Hate to break it to you, Mister," he said, "but the last time we shared, our Uncle got sent to the ER and we now have a lifetime ban at Target. Mama has to leave us on leashes outside."
Oh. Okay, then.
Ignoring that, I decided to come up with more solutions to their dreaded issue. "What about your mother or father? Couldn't they just give you some more money for your ice cream? Are they here with you?"
Dixie quickly shook her head in response. "Nuh-uh. Mommy's at work," she said, once more acting as if it was the most obvious thing in the world and that he should know better than to question where their mother was.
My left brow arched as I tilted my head. "And your father . . . ?" I asked her.
The girl sighed heavily and glared down at the blades of grass. "Our dad died in a fire before we were born. None of us even got to know him."
