At first it did not bother the man, but gradually he began to wonder why. 'Why does the boy stare at me like that?' He asked under his breath. Every day he would look up and, often, Werd's eyes met his.

At the end of every day, the shopkeeper would count the money he'd made. He would then walk into the back with Werd always following. By candlelight the older man outlined the cocoa powder, mortar and pestle and all the other instruments of making fine chocolate. Yet every night he felt the boy's eyes on him and, every time he turned, he looked down to see the boy not looking at the tools, but at him.

"What are you looking at now, hmm?" He would always ask. It was always a good-natured question.

"Oh, I'm sorry, sir," he would usually say. After the lesson the two talked into the night: about the boy, about the chocolate shop, about everything and nothing. At first simply liking him, the boy grew to love the chocolatier, more and more with each passing night and story.

One night the boy forgot himself and lept into the arms of the man, holding him tight.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he said as his head rested against the shopkeeper's shirt, "I just, I..."

"There, there," the man said as he patted the boy's back. Somehow this all felt familiar to him. "Now now, boy," he smiled, "Come, what's the matter?"

"I...sir," He painfully began, "I've no family. I've been an orphan since I was born. The orphanage is a horrible place and I stay away from there as long as I can. I'm too weak to hold out, though, sir!" He sobbed. The man was beside himself in confusion at what to do, for he'd never had children of his own to comfort.

"That's a terrible thing to hear, Werd. I'm sorry."

"But...I've thought about it alot, sir," Werd said slowly, "And...and...could I stay with you? Oh please, sir, I wouldn't be much of a bother or anything! I could sleep back near the boxes, open up in the morning, bring you that coffee you like from down the street. I could!"

"Whoa, settle down, boy, settle down!" The man smiled wide, "Come come, you don't want anything to do with an old has-been like me! You're young and strong, fit and good-natured. Why, pay attention to your duties and someday I might leave you this place!"

"But...but," the boy mumbled as tears trickled down his face. He then bolted out to the front, shuffling out the door as fast as he could, not looking back as the storekeep called out after him.

Several days passed and Werd came back. All was normal. Yet, the burning thought crept into the man's mind more and more: 'Why does that boy stare at me like that?'

Late one afternoon, Ms. Sasstle entered the shop and warmly greeted the shopkeeper. His eyes danced as the wrinkles of his face skipped up.

"What can I get for you today, Sass?" He asked.

"Oh, the usual, of course," she said. Her eyes looked out over to the far end, where a pair of grey eyes were looking back at her and then to the shopkeeper. Her heart skipped a beat. Turning around she waited until she heard the sound of sweeping.

"How, how's the boy working out, anyway?" She asked in a whisper.

Rather than smile the man bent his head forward. His face was heavy with conflict. "Well...he's bright, good hands, a good disposition, but...oh it's nothing."

"No no, go ahead," she insisted.

"Well," he softly said to her, "His eyes..."

"Yes," she nodded as if understanding, "Why does that boy stare at you like that?"

"...I'm not sure," he admitted.

"It makes me uncomfortable too...he makes me feel uncomfortable," she confessed. Standing there for a few awkward moments she mumbled a soft goodbye and left, taking her bag of sweets.

Later that night Werd asked the shopkeeper if he could stay with him in his shop, holding him tight around the waist. Again the shopkeeper insisted Werd was fine on his own. The boy collapsed into words and tears, repeating himself. Werd said that he wished the man was his father, how much he loved him, how much he wanted to just be with him, over and over until he choked and sobbed into the dust.

The shopkeeper was very afraid. He did not want the boy to stay in his shop or in his upstairs loft. He cared for the boy, but he did not love him. He sat the boy down and spoke in a slow, reassuring way. "You'll be fine, Werd," he nodded as if to assure himself, "You're strong and young, fit and good-natured."

The boy sniffled and threw his arms around the shopkeeper's neck. The man sighed heavily and said, "I'm sorry." With that, the boy burst out into new tears and hurriedly skipped across the wooden floor and to the front, crashing against the wooden door and then out into the night.

Over a week passed and still there was no sign of Werd...

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