Nora covered his tiny toddler hands with hers.  Older, weathered, they had seen a lot of heavy labor.  She moved his in a stirring motion, teaching him how to wield the big wooden spoon through the caramel colored liquid in the iron skillet.

She was nine or ten when they met.  Maia’s father was out at sea and her mother had sent her to fetch the lava rock down by the shore.  It would be smooth enough on one side, where the water washed over it again and again, to firmly set down the cooking pot while it cooled.  

She was nearly alone on the beach, shortly before 7am, a sole surfer strolled away from the small waves.  It would be hot soon, best to get in a jog now.  

He said to meet her under the red tree, the one closest to the water.  She immediately understood which one he meant, she knew the park like the back of her hand.  It's where she went to let go of the day.  She could wander it for hours.

Lisette gazed across the water at her next victim.  He looked innocent enough with his soft pale skin and big brown eyes still filled with wonder for the world.