J and the onions

I like onions. They live in a cupboard near the sink. They share housing with the potatoes. I take them out. I carry them round with me. They go where I go. I have one in each hand. Until I get bored and then I have one in one hand. The other rolls away and plays by itself.

Earlier today, I was walking through the house checking teddies. Onion in hand. The doorbell rang. Good news. It was J. He’d called to collect G. I smiled at J. I held up my onion for him. J looked down then looked away. He didn’t smile. He didn’t grin. There was no funny face.

I wanted J to have my onion. A gift from me for him. I held it up for a while. But J didn’t take it. He didn’t look down again. He carried on talking to G. And then to M. Even to Em’s. But not to me.

Shortly after J left. My eyes clouded over. I put J’s onion in my play box. Maybe he will want it when his funny face comes back.