scene thirty-six - small - year eleven

Ew. They hadn’t expected a truckload of small, moving things to be trotting down the pavement towards them when they set off from school behind T and Cleo, but there it was: a horde of the shortest variety, all snivelling and whining and seemingly continually attempting to end their short lives by darting into the road every two seconds. The brightly-coloured vests practically strapped onto each small body would do nothing if they leapt out from behind a parked car and got caught by the front end of a bus, but… they weren’t meant to be thinking about things like that. They were only small things. They couldn’t help their excruciatingly annoying stage of growth, and they certainly didn’t deserve death for it. Christ. These days, they were becoming more and more…

well, they were lacking a lot of empathy lately.