Little Gary’s eyes lit up as soon as he heard the familiar tune from down the street.
Without waiting to finish his cereal, he tore out of the house in his striped pyjamas, the belt of the fabric flying behind him in the autumn breeze.
He clapped his hands joyfully as the familiar face of Howard, the ice-cream man, came into view, cycling and pushing the appetising wagon before him.
Howard grinned back at him and whistled along to the tune of ‘The wheels on the bus go round and round’, pausing long enough to scoop a large one out and heap it onto the crunchy cone.
Gary reached eagerly for the Sunday indulgence and smiled at Howard, not noticing the wheels turning in that brain: that Howard’s smile did not reach his eyes; the same eyes which cleverly concealed the leer of the Pedophile within.
Written for Five Sentence Fiction’s Prompt: Wheels
I am a Write Tribe Pro Blogger– Trying to blog everyday for a year.
Today is Day 52
Also linking this to Day 23 of the Ultra Blog Challenge