A little boy sits on a bench waiting for his father to collect him. He looks so small and serene against the old brick wall of the kindergarten, socks pulled up, shirt tucked in, waiting patiently. He’s not worried.

Dad will be here soon to fetch me.

The old gardener keeps a friendly eye from a distance. Like the creepers growing across the wall, patience, time and trust are abundant.

A young boy sits on his bag against the classroom wall. Athletics practice finished nearly an hour ago. Everyone has gone, save the brothers preparing dinner and settling in for the evening. Old Brother Eric wanders by to make sure he is OK.

I’m OK, Dad will be here soon, he’s just late. He probably forgot to stop by and went straight home from work.

He had and he did.

A young man sits in a study cubicle alone. Lectures are over, all of his fellow students have gone home to their families for dinner. The sound of the cleaners emptying bins and sweeping echoes through the hallways of the darkened institute.

I’m OK, Dad doesn’t need to pick me up now because there’s no home for me to go to. I am not OK, he doesn’t and I am right.

A man sits at his desk. The staff have gone. It’s getting dark outside. Across town a boy waits for his dad. Nobody is watching.

He’ll be here soon, he’s just running late…

He was and he was.

An old man lying in a bed waits for his father. He looks so frail propped up on pillows. The room has a serene order, bed, chair, wash-basin. He’s too tired to be worried.

Dad will be here soon to take me home.

An orderly hurries by flashing a glance. Wilting flowers in a vase by the bed stand silent company.

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