The heart of a man is...

SINUIS.

What you're about to hear is based on actual events.

Listen to their discretion is advised.

The bed is empty once she checks it, which is no surprise.

The little boy is a going concern.

Susan swears he'd float right off the earth

if it weren't for gravity holding him down, the way he likes to wander off.

It's not fully dark yet.

The last traces of light stain the western sky, abruised purple.

Still, it's getting cool. She heads outside and calls for him, like one might for a cat.

The neighbors look up from their reading material and mutter.

What kind of a name is Peter Woodcock?

Susan scatters the unfortunate moniker up and down the street until the sun disappears.

A full bright moon soon replacing it.

Mom?

Susan hears the small-ish voice emit from a bush just around the corner of their home.

That's where she finds him. Tucked up amongst the green.

She can see only the flat squares of the moon reflected in his glasses.

The glowing white finds her just as she finds it.

Inside the house, she can hear her biological son and her husband listening to

that old black magic on the record player.

...