They look like a perfect family. You know the kind I mean; the ones who send out a postcard with a photo; everyone wears red shirts and they are all doing the latest dance move. Dad is tall and distinguished with touches of gray at the temples. Mom holds a toddler on her lap while sitting between two teenagers, a boy and a girl.
I wonder where they are going. I wonder what it’s like to be a member of their happy family on this sunny day.
“Stop it,” the mom said. The little boy squirms on her lap. He has a vanilla ice cream cone and he is mashing it into his face repeatedly.
“Eww, you’re gross,” the teenage daughter said as she stares at her young brother. Her nose ring wobbles as she speaks and the purple tint on her mohawk shines in the sunlight.
The dad closes his eyes and clenches his fists.
“Now you’ve done it,” the mom said as she leaps to her feet. Sticky ice cream oozes over the seat. The mom pulls tissues out of her purse and she tries to clean up the mess. “We’ll have to move to another seat,” she said.
Great, you foul the seat so no one can sit on it and now you are going to mess up another one. I watch with disgust as the melted ice cream drips onto the floor and runs down the aisle toward my shoe.