The boy could already see the curious faces aimed towards them.
"Lemme go!!" he squealed, and finally yanked out of the grip of the older woman. His ear was red and stinging, and this unexpected turn of events meant that he had missed that time slot every third day when the baker disappeared for a full half minute to open the back door for the new flour supplies.
He had been meaning to grab enough loaves to give to the young'uns (urchins who were younger than five) who lived near the warehouses.
It was high time to disappear. But before he scurried off, the question that had been burning in his mind ever since the younger lady had caught him and he had stared into her face. He really ought not to ask. And yet...
The boy told himself not to be a scardycat and took a step back towards the trio.
Looking at the younger lady's face and then staring at the ground, he asked shyly, "Are you my mother?"
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The inimical is often more instructive than the benign. Between screams, try to pay attention.
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