Every Good Boy Deserves Favor by Greg Wands
The boy was too captivated by the glow of the trinket to notice the crease in the old man’s brow. Had he been able to temper his awe, to shut down the sheer wonderment and heart-thumping thrill of the spectacle long enough to switch his gaze to his elder, he might have been startled by the sullen concern in the man’s map of a face. If he’d abandoned the easy pull of the ornament, he might have been able to read the eyes of his aged companion, might have found himself drawn to the enigmatic expression—equal parts regret, longing, wisdom and recognition. If he’d found his way to the old man’s eyes—those weathered windows sunk into the folds of time—he might have sensed a reflective quality; the glimmer of nostalgia peeking out between the cracks and crevices of hard-won experience—the very kind that can’t help but suffocate the magic of discovery even as it grasps wildly for the innocence at its root. But the boy did no such thing—for why would he? It would never occur to him to follow such a folly of pursuit; not with this unqualified miracle right here, in this moment, revealing its endless possibilities to him, and him alone.