Lydia stopped to berate the child, reminding him his poor dead mother would turn in her grave and his Papa would marry the spinster school ma’am if he didn’t mend his ways. She prayed for him every night because she could see the Devil in his eyes. She crossed herself twice.
Marco watched his friends playing on the rocks, the waves rolling in, signalling high tide. All he wanted was his Mama to put her loving arms around him. He was glad she could turn in her grave, it seemed a tiny narrow box his Papa helped carry into the church.
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