The two little boys know all the right answers. They know what they're here for. Make her smile, get a prize. Some sort of sweet, something to rot your teeth, your brain, your heart. At this young an age, the damage is harmless, but fragile youth sings the stories of many a careless practice. I watch them without saying a word; like animals at the zoo, they watch me back. So precious still, so innocent. I pat each one on the head. Have another, I say. At this age, how can you deny?
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