Iambic Pentameter

He had always been a good boy, so he climbed the steps of his parents’ porch and knocked on the door without hesitation. But nobody answered, so he knocked again and again.

“They’re not there,” said an old lady in the street.

“Oh, hello. I’m sorry, yeah. They’re my parents. Do you know where they went?”

“To church, most likely.”

“Oh, yeah. I went earlier,” he explained.

“I didn’t know they had a son,” she said, “I’m  Rhonda and I’ve lived here for four years. I’m good friends with them. You never visit,” she ended the last sentence slowly, with an untold regret.

“No, that’s not true,” he lied, “I do, sometimes. I was just overseas for a while. Uhm, very busy.”

She nodded and walked away. As she was disappearing from sight, she said: “Well, I hope they give you what you came for.” Was she smiling? he could not tell.

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