The Wrong House
The light chirped and turned white.
I squeezed my children’s warm hands, turned my gaze forward, and stepped into the intersection, leaving him behind. I didn’t look back to see whether he was still watching.
It didn’t matter.
The wind swirled a vortex of colored leaves around our feet.
My daughter looked up, her bright eyes curious. “Who was that man looking at us, Mom?”
I smiled down at her, the general gone, replaced by a mother’s plain, fierce love.