"Mary Rickert - Don't ask" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rickert Mary)

enough we can see them again, our lost boys, their haircuts ragged with
youth, their smiles crooked. They are riding bicycles, jumping over rocks,
playing with their friends, shoving hamburgers into their mouths, gulping
soda, eating cake, running out the door, running down the sidewalk; the sun
shining on them as if they were not just our sons, but sons of the gods and
then, suddenly, we are brought back to the present, by that feeling at the
back of our necks, and we turn to find them watching us with that look, that
frightened, wary look of an animal caged by an unkind human. At moments
like these, we smile, and sometimes, on good days, they smile back at us,
revealing sharp white teeth in the tender red wounds of their mouths.