“So I sit here…”
“…and wait,” Misha confirmed.
Clara sighed. When she agreed to babysit her nephew, she thought playgrounds and picnics. Not nonstop rain and hours in a gloomy cafe while her car was being repaired.
She looked around for the boy. Yep. There. His red top. He’s crouched behind the same table. Every. Single. Time.
“I give up!” she announced.
“Ta-da!” Misha popped out like a cork from a bottle.
The four-year-old ran to her and wrapped his arms around her torso. “Best play-date ever, Auntie Clawa! I love this Waiting Game!”
Clara smiled. “Wanna hide again?”
For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers
Photo prompt © David Stewart
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