"Expectation is the root of all heartache." William Shakespeare—
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Today was a good day for Minho. Mommy had given him breakfast, even if the cereal was a bit soggy. But she had given him candy after, too!
She had also changed his diaper, and bathed him, even if the water was a bit cold.
Mommy had also dressed him in nice, clean clothes."Now you look less hideous." she said.
Minho didn't know what that meant, but when he asked she told him to stop being annoying. Minho also didn't know what that word meant. He chose to stay quiet this time, because mommy had seemed angry before.
When the woman opened the door and waited for him to go out, the boy looked at his feet. His sneakers had the laces undone.
"My god, you're usless, Minho." Mommy told him. He made a point to learn for next time. Maybe if he watched closely how his mommy did it, he'd be able to learn faster.
They were going for a walk, or so Minho thought. He had eaten a real breakfast today, was dressed in nice clothes for the first time in a while, mommy wasn't shouting at him and her eyes weren't red. What else could that mean? He must had done something good.
Probably mommy was going to buy him ice cream. He loves ice cream!
As the woman walked ahead, Minho followed as closely as his two year old legs could get him to his mother. He was getting a bit tired, but mommy told him one time that boys who complain are weaklings and no one loves weaklings, so Minho kept on half-running behind her without a word.
He didn't want his mother to stop loving him because he was a weakling.
"Are we going to i-cream?" he asked. He started to see an unfamiliar neighborhood sorround him. This wasn't the way to the ice cream shop.
His mother didn't answer, just kept walking ahead. Maybe she didn't hear him? Minho asked again, this time with a little more voice. Once again, his mommy seemed to not have heard.
The third time he asked, the woman sighed. "Shut up, will you?" she said.
Minho did as he had been told, scared to anger mommy.
Suddenly, the woman stopped walking. They were in front of big stone stairs that led to brown doors. There was something written on it, but Minho still didn't know how to read.
Mommy turned to look at him. "Sit down there." she pointed to a step near the end of the stairs.
When he did as told, the woman got a little piece of paper from her purse and put it on his front pocket, the one from his blue coat. It was late December, so he was wearing it to be less cold.
