Saturday, September 29, 2012

Motherly

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Her stare ambles through the train. Her son impervious to his mother's reverie sucks on his index and middle finger.
She is bobbing her head back and forth. Perhaps, a lullaby echoes in her mind. Not that it is time to sleep or he is restless; a maternal instinct must have been triggered when his soft buttocks touched her thighs.
She realises his presence and caresses his head. "Are you okay my boy?" she dabs his head to check his temperature.
He doesn't respond. She takes it as his approval of current affairs.
She uproots him from the warmth of her body and seats him next to her.