“We’ve been watching you all night,” the middle one added.
“And that’s exactly right,” the third concluded, nodding with quiet certainty.
Jonathan blinked, not knowing whether to laugh or apologize.
“What is it for?”
The girls leaned closer, so close that he could smell the delicate scent of strawberry shampoo, and then with a conscious, conspiratorial impulse, they whispered in his ear:
“We need you to pretend to be our father.”
The words caught in his throat and he stopped breathing.
“Just for tonight,” the first one added quickly.
“Just until the party is over,” the other said, pulling a crumpled banknote from his pocket with inappropriate pride.
“Be kind,” murmured the third, eyes sparkling.
“Mom always sits alone.
People look at him like he’s broken, but he’s not.
“Just tired.”
Something changed in Jonathan, as if an old door had suddenly opened.
He knew that tired smile—the one that was only half-up—that he himself had worn for years.
“Where is your mother?” he asked before he could change his mind.
They all pointed in the same direction at the same time, their three arms moving like the needle of a compass pointing north.
The woman in the red dress.
Near the bar stood a woman in a deep red, simple yet elegant dress with long sleeves and a low neckline – a material chosen to not draw attention to itself, yet it did exactly that.
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