His little fingers were wrapped around my shirt.
The man swallowed.
Then he faced his son.
“Apologize.”
Connor rolled his eyes.
“Dad.”
“Now.”
Connor glanced at his friends.
That seemed to matter more to him than anything else.
He looked embarrassed.
Good.
He should have been.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
His father shook his head.
“No.”
Connor frowned.
“What?”
“Look at her.”
The boy stayed silent.
“Look at her and apologize properly.”
Connor slowly raised his eyes.
I could see the anger in his face now.
Not remorse.
Anger.
He hated being corrected in front of his friends.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
His father waited.
Connor exhaled sharply.
“I’m sorry I poured milk on your kid.”
The words sounded forced.
Still, I nodded.
“I hope you understand why that wasn’t okay.”
Connor looked away again.
His father turned toward his friends.
“You boys can go.”
None of them argued.
They disappeared down the aisle almost immediately.
