tried to fight the creeping sense of dread with temporal things
Of the many reactions you expect a teenager to have to being told a grumpy old drunk wants to be their friend, open delight and disbelief are very far from the top of the list. Reminding yourself that there's an important conversation about stranger danger to be had here, you let it go in favor of offering the lad a grin. "Really really," you confirm, not sure if you'd be overstepping to offer him a hug.
Eh, fuck it.
Walking over to the lad you throw one arm over his shoulders in one of those awkward, manly, I'm-not-really-sure-how-to-show-it-but-you-matter-to-me half-hugs. Then it's back to work before you get too damn emotional, turning back to the wheelbarrow full of sand. "C'mon, kid- let's finish these an' then we can get a bite t'eat. I'll show ya how t'catch an' cook up crabs, how 'bout that?"
Eh, fuck it.
Walking over to the lad you throw one arm over his shoulders in one of those awkward, manly, I'm-not-really-sure-how-to-show-it-but-you-matter-to-me half-hugs. Then it's back to work before you get too damn emotional, turning back to the wheelbarrow full of sand. "C'mon, kid- let's finish these an' then we can get a bite t'eat. I'll show ya how t'catch an' cook up crabs, how 'bout that?"
ZEPHYR
