For one awful moment, I couldn’t even process what had happened.
A teenager had deliberately poured milk over a one-year-old baby.
Not by accident.
Not because he stumbled.
He had looked directly at me, made a joke, opened the bottle, and done it.
I turned toward him.
He was still standing there.
His smirk had weakened.
Maybe he had expected another angry sentence.
Maybe he had expected his friends to laugh harder.
They weren’t laughing now.
One stared at the floor.
Another took a step backward.
My shock was quickly turning into anger.
I wanted to yell.
I wanted to demand a manager.
I wanted his parents called.
Most of all, I wanted to understand what kind of 16-year-old thought humiliating a crying baby was funny.
I opened my mouth.
Then I noticed the teenager’s expression change.
He wasn’t looking at me anymore.
His eyes had shifted past my shoulder.
