The Eleventh Commandment
©1997 by K. A. LaityShe should never have said it, not even silently. And after the policeand the confusion and the onlookers were gone, she could only berateherself over and over. And look at the small life in her hands and dullywonder where her son was now.If only he hadn't been so fussy and cranky today—why today? Errandsto run, grocery shopping (
not done) and what to get Auntie Ruth; on anyother day, she might not have lost her temper, might not have wished—But what good did it do? He was gone. All the fuss and fluster was fornothing. A little man with eyes the color of a storm brewing gazed up ather, silently smirking. She wanted to dash him against the hard blackpavement to wipe that knowing smile off his face. But that would justconfirm what the police and the manager and the women who
soconcerned, at first, believed; that she was crazy, that she was a danger toher baby boy, that some kind of authorities ought to be called.She argued, of course. All the time the officers were asking her foridentification, she tried to explain what had happened, holding the hideousthing aloft, until she caught sight of their reflection in the display window. Itwas Bobby. At once she drew in the child; no, it was not. She turned him tothe window. It
Bobby. But only in the glass. "Bobby?" she hadwhispered uncertainly, the hope and understanding gone from her voice.
K. A. Laity “Eleventh Commandment”