He sent the kid out into the night with one of those old railroad style flashlights. The big kind with the giant lense that unscrews to reveal a battery the size of coffee can. I hadn’t seen this previously. As the kid walked away, the flashlight tumbled and turned into the darkness and there, from the balcony, the father emerged. He leaned over the railing and said, “Go straight to your grandfather’s. And don’t talk to nobody.” The kid replied, “I know. I won’t”, as he ambled down the icy sidewalk.
A pause in the darkness.
The father again belted our from the second floor, “I love you.” The kid returned with, “I know. I love you, too.”