Several days later, he visited the young mother, seduced her and
had sex with her. He was a young businessman, from another city.
Single, and madly in love with her, and her kids.
Soon, the young mother divorced her husband, took their children
and fled to meet her lover only to find out he was a crook out to
con her off everything she ever owed. He was nothing. He robbed the
poor woman after beating her with a stick, left her and her kids in
the cold streets all by themselves. Penniless, cold and hungry,
away in a far city, they huddled together in a small alley feeding
on scrapes.
Nobody took pity on them, and winter came. The kids died first, one
by one, of cold, fever and starvation. The young mother hid their
corpses away from public sight, out of hope and trust in the world
she once loved.
Finally, one fine day, she died in the following spring. Whilst the
city-folks sees the first ray of warmth, she saw her last, beside a
shallow grave of dust and bones.
There was a news report a week later, about a missing woman, and
three children, found or what remained anyways. It was small,
lesser than 10cm square, tucked away in a corner of the paper,
behind the oncoming presidential election.
Soon to be forgotten; the conman was never caught.
