Inappropriate

They were ordering food. Take-away from an outdoor café. Burritos, wraps, and sandwiches. Fries, of course. Sodas. A hut where the cooking, storing, and sales transactions took place. White tables with red umbrellas surrounded the hut on a small pond of blazing white cement.

The food was ordered. Waiting commenced. Others were eating. It was outdoors. They wouldn’t eat there. They’d go home. A man and three boys were at one table. Food-focused, none looked up. Nobody spoke. Blonds. Crewcuts. Dad appeared to be in his mid thirties. The boys ranged from guesses that put them six to twelve.

Their ticket was called. He got up and collected their food. His wife joined them on their walk to the car.

“You see what happened behind you?” she asked.

“No.”

“Did you see the man and three boys a few tables over? The littlest one got up and walked over and peed behind your seat on the grass by the sidewalk.”

He gasped. “Did his father see that?”

“I think his father told him to.”

The man thought, he’d have to pass this on to Jill. Some see something as inappropriate, but to others, it’s fine.

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