Father and Son

The crease and crinkle of paper caught Dave’s ear as he walked passed his bedroom. Looking around the door he saw his son crouched on the far side of the bed.

“What are you looking at?” he asked as he came around to see.

Spread out between in front of James was the curvature of breasts and buttocks and a finely manicured lawn with the staple as her bellybutton ornament. Dave stood and rehearsed the reprimand forming in his head, but was interrupted.

“Do you wish that Mum looked like this?”

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