The clock ticks, and he can't tear his eyes away from it. He shifts in his seat and groans. It has been like this every afternoon of every day this week. But today will be different. She'll actually be here today. She has to be. Mum doesn't break promises.
Waiting outside is hard, too. Her mind can't stop cycling through the two images, over and over again, splicing them together until the boy's hopeful grin begins to merge with his mother's lifeless face. How can she tell him?
