A Different Sort Of Child
Am-Chau Yarkona
Rating: harmless
Not my characters.
Entry for the wednesday100 drabble challenge on mothers.
That intense focus was on the toy car again—one of the wheels wasn't turning as smoothly as he'd like.
He was, she thought, a real Luthor: bright, sharp eyes, a smile as he concentrated hard, and the dark hair he'd inherited from his father already marking him out, allowed to grow down to brush his shoulders.
She loved his hair. Maybe she even loved him, in a way no one else ever would. Dark, soft, falling in ringlets; unbleached by the sun the made the other children look blond.
Lionel didn't play outside. He wasn't that sort of child.