I heard a story today that has my gears turning and will probably end up in a story, somewhere, somehow.
I'm paraphrasing the story because my memory's not so good: Somewhere in the U.S.--not sure where--a pair of burglars broke into a house, tied up two grown men and a fifteen year old boy. During the robbery, a baby in the house started crying. The father of the baby and the fifteen year old begged one of the robbers to untie the teen so he could feed his brother. Not only did the burglar comply, but he also took the time to warm up the baby's bottle. No one was hurt; the robbers have not been caught.
On the surface it's just another tale of bad things happening to good people. But in my head it's a fascinating look at what's under the surface. What makes someone tick. How can a person break into someone's home, no doubt devastating that family for a long time to come, yet take the time to make sure a baby is cared for? It's that kind of dichotomy that I love to mix into my books, into my characters. Not sure how or when I'll use it, but it's there, churning...
~heather
Kids ruin everything.
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