For every adult that avoided the sad sentence, stepping around with averted eyes and thin smile, there was a child, oblivious to the sadness, or perhaps not, poking at it with a stick until it broke and the words spilled out at their feet.
I think I poked it. I hope I don’t break it.
Speaking of great sentences, kudos for this one. The imagery, the apparent cruelty and insensitivity of children, but then in the end, the breaking and spilling. Of course the kids could walk away in disgust, but I expect that their curiousity will overcome them; they’ll pick up some of the words and take them away with them. Pretty soon you’ll find those words bouncing around the playgrounds and parks, playfully tossed about in games, built into wild childhood fantasies and, for some, brooding dangerously in the journals of future authors.