The Stare

When the kids were growing up they tended to pay particular attention to Harold, initially to learn the purpose of his primary function, then to benefit from that function. Bridget didn’t take long to learn, but her younger brother Timmy found it more difficult. He would regularly turn his attention to Harold, practically every time he came into the room, and he would stare. Sometimes he would stare for four or five minutes at a time, probably on account of his frustratingly dozy mentality and forgetful memory. Harold could never understand why people found others staring at them so frustrating. Personally he used to love it. During this learning period Harold would sit in his spot all day long, waiting for Timmy to come along and give him a good stare. As sad as it may seem, he really adored them fragments of attention, when the usual restricted confrontations would momentarily collapse, and something different would reign. They really were pleasant times.

The End

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