He didn't mean to make eye contact with it but now with every blink of his sore watery eyes, it took a step closer. It was cradling something that was soaking wet, each droplet a resounding crash in the otherwise perfect silence of the night.
A part of him already knew exactly what was inside the small bundle it cradled, but he didn't dare speak or move in case it either vanished and took the bundle away for good or worse - seized him with it and disappeared them both away. His husband would be distraught and with no-one around to spill the truth he'd be painted as a runaway and a kidnapper.
But their child's life was so precariously safe as long as he kept it in eyesight til sunrise. He just had to stop blinking and not move, not so much as a twitch or gasp. He just had to pray that their child was washed and sleeping.
The thought of any alternative brought him closer to tears, closer to losing.
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