Adam peered through the window into the brightly lit nursery. His wife had given birth to a second son. There at the time, he saw the pain of childbirth in her aching eyes and feared his mate might perish in the act. Recalling the words she had once asked him, he muttered: “We don’t die here.”

He sat in a seat on a row of plastic molded, yellow chairs; next to his son, the older one, Cain. Cain was eating a candy bar. He had chocolate all over his face. “You should eat more vegetables and fruit,” Adam told his untidy son, “that stuff will eventually rot your teeth.”

The boy finished the bar and threw the wrapper on the floor; it lay mixed in a pile with many others. “You keep eating like that and in due course you will die,” said the father to his pigheaded son.

“What’s it matter if I die, I’m not hurting anyone!” was the bonbon slayer’s candid reply.

Adam lived life in silence, never scolding his son; feeling the regret of the inaction of a past deed and wondering what would become of his woman’s seed.

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