Timeout.

“Don’t,” the man said to the little boy, no more than 4 years old. “It’s dirty.”

The little boy continued looking at the concrete frame of the window, running his fingers on the outside sill. “Ants!” he said. “Papa, there are ants. Hello ants. You live here.”

The little boy crouched down and started touching the sill.

“What did I say?” the man said. “Timeout, Adam.”

Instantly, the little boy became stiff and turned his face into the wall, his eyes facing darkness. The man continued fiddling with his phone until a woman and another man came out. They poked their black large straws into the drink, piercing the plastic covering and sucking the liquid surrounding round balls of honey. Minutes passed and the little boy was still stiff, looking into the wall. Silent as if he was a ghost that had been there all that time.

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