Take this and run with it, is what he had said to the boy. Well, something like that. He just wanted to get the boy out of the house so he pointed at the thing and said what he said and the boy took it and ran out the door. It wasn’t meant to be a real inspiring address or anything. He didn’t even expect the boy to make it as far as he did, the thing he’d pointed to was pretty damn heavy after all, but the boy plucked it off of the floor without even a grunt. It was like he had actually been inspired by the little speech-thing he’d been given and was imbued with a sort of power, one that he had seen stirring in him briefly a few times before. It would occasionally find its way to the surface to poke its nose out of the water and draw short breaths of confidence, but now it had fully emerged, the water gone, and with the pool drained its flesh dried and grew warm in the sun.
He watched the boy run out of the cul-de-sac, thing held over his head like a totem. A young girl on her stoop, also watching the boy run with the thing, picked up a thing from her yard and started to run after him. Another child with another thing joined. And another, until at least twenty children with twenty different things were running down the street towards an intersection where the traffic stopped on a green to let them pass, a few of their back doors springing open and children with things held over their heads spilled out into the street, running towards the others. At this distance he could no longer make out the boy, but he could still see what he carried, the thing now more silhouette than solid, a memory pushing into the horizon.