A curse had befallen her child.
That was the only explanation, the mother thought as she watched him from a distance. What the hell was wrong with her? This was her son—
'That is not your son.'
The mother clutched her coat tighter around her body as she sat on the bench, her eyes locked on the boy who was alone in the park. The other children were playing, laughing, and chasing each other, but he wasn't.
Dasha Pang, her little...boy. He was bored of the monkey bars. He was bored of the slides and the nearby skatepark. All of it bored him. He attempted it once, succeeded, then did it thrice and never again.
Dasha was crouched under tree and crushing ants under his fingers. He would walk, stop, crouch, and crush. He picked the carcass of the ant and study it until he was satisfied. Last week, it was with the grass. A month ago, it was with trees. A year ago, with toys. He was too curious.
