The Bodyguard ("Bloom" story #62)

BLOOM
by Michael Kroetch

The bodyguard is observing children at a playground. He adjusts his tinted glasses. There are no parents in the vicinity. This troubles him because the children are very young. He glances around, checking the area for suspicious types. He’s glad he’s here to keep things on the up and up.

He moves closer and the children stop playing. They grab their toys a bit tighter and do not take their eyes off him—even when a cloud drifts in front of the sun and everything loses color. The bodyguard can tell how afraid the children are because of how quiet they’ve become and how quietly they glide toward each other. The bodyguard wants to tell them not to worry. That now everything is okay; he is here. He raises his hands high into the air to show the children how safe it is. Yet, for some reason, one child near the merry-go-round lets out a terrible scream which blooms above the swingset like some exotic red flower.

The scream has such a high-pitched tone that it makes the bodyguard think the child has stepped on an old nail. And maybe the child has. But maybe not. It could be this child is testing the bodyguard’s response. Or maybe it’s some sort of trick. The bodyguard touches his dark suit near his breast pocket, checking to make sure his gun is secure. He knows it’s better to be safe than sorry. Especially in situations like this.