to remember

Once, when the shirt was still a puppy, we stood with him on the lighthouse. There is a transit near the station, not even through the passing part, but through the exit of buses from the parking lot. So the people on this lighthouse hit, and does not dim especially. The most offensive thing is that there is such a cycle, 50 seconds for pedestrians, and only 15 seconds for cars. No matter anyway.

And here we stand, burning red, passed by the bus, and everyone who stood next to us, with a friendly flock, with rare exceptions, was robbed.
And the shirt asks.

Why are they red?

What shall I say? And so I was ashamed in front of the child for these adult citizens, what I said. Loud, but very clearly.

They are barons, my son. There is such a kind of man, a baron. They can be on any.

I said so.
I raised my head and saw three people, of those who had already walked over the border, suddenly suddenly surrendered back and stood next to him. They look at the boy like that. With all our appearance as if demonstrating – no, we are not lambs! There is a man, a aunt, and another girl. Such, nothing to herself, on the sidewalk, the chest half of the roadway is bordered.
I became uncomfortable, and the boy stands, looks at everyone shamelessly, the horns try to see.

And then this girl, catching his look on her, leaned and said, smiling confusedly.

We are not bears, boy. We simply forget that very often.