Chapter 6 - The Broken T-Rex
At table five, just to the left of the wreckage, sat a little boy.
He wore a miniature navy blazer and a clip-on bow tie.
His legs dangled from the high-backed chair, his shoes kicking empty air.
In his right hand, he gripped a plastic Tyrannosaurus Rex.
The toy was missing its left arm.
The boy wasn't looking at his plate of fries.
He was staring directly at the heavy-set man.
Beside the boy sat an older man with thick, silver hair.
The older man wore a charcoal suit, perfectly tailored, with a subdued navy tie.
He held a linen napkin in his hand, his thumb tracing the embroidered hem.
The little boy tapped the broken T-Rex against the tablecloth.
"Grandpa."
The boy’s voice was high, clear, and perfectly pitched.
It sliced straight through the heavy, suffocating tension of the dining room.
The heavy-set man paused, his mouth half-open, ready to shout again.
He snapped his head toward the boy.
"Grandpa," the boy repeated, pointing the broken plastic dinosaur at the man in the grey suit.
"Mommy says we don't scream when we break things."
The boy tilted his head, his wide eyes blinking slowly.
May you like
"Why is the big man yelling? Doesn't he know the lady is already broken?"
---
