Dewey’s eyes searched for his ‘masters’ thininng-haired aging face, as the passenged departed the train. His newly appointed guardian was no guardian at all.
His eyes met hers as he scrambled to reach her before her “delicate” fingers had to actually carry her own bags for once. “C’mon Dewey,” we don’t want to be late for the theatre,” her penetratin eyes stared past him and into the oncoming crowd as they exited the train station. Mrs. Sherwood shoved him into the rain streaked road as he started to hail a cab.
Dewey scrounged in his pocket for fare, failing to do so, he daringly shot a glance up at mrs. s as she pursed her lips and piad the fare. “You’ll pay later,” she said in her sing-song voice.
He winced.
They pulled up to the theatre, and Dewey ran to the trunk and deposited her bags on the sidewalk.
She was already inside.
He ran to the door and hecticly pushed his way through, but she already gone.
“Ticket?” He gawked at the ticket-counter speechless. “Uh, um,” he stuttered, “no I don’t.”