i know satan is here. i am never surprised to find his agentic reach where once my eye rested in forgetfulness of wickedness. nevertheless, though my heart can blow as cold as the arctic, and it has comprehended immense darkness, still i am irked to find compromised individuals so near to children.

i never asked for children. i never asked for my daughters. i never made designs of euphorically giggling with a daughter who bears the minutiae of my phenotype. i never wished to hold her upside down or throw her up in the air, waiting for her to finish the upward parabola, always trusting, before returning to my waiting catch. nor could i paint the perfect scenes where she spontaneously approaches me merely to share her affection for me, with me. maybe i never asked for her and her sister because i always knew how far i had fallen from the grace of God. and i agreed to never discolor the life of another human ever again even if it meant living in isolation for the rest of my mortal life. this commitment holds more complexion than my flesh.

but you, toby, in your queer, misplaced proximity to those who are not yours. while you slipped past the defenses of the unvigilant adults and their children, your behavior did not altogether escape notice.

i heard tell of your antics, first. then i saw for myself.

i saw the little girl bearing my own features acknowledge you, smile at you and return your wave as you aimlessly strolled down a dead-end stack of books. but it wasn’t aimless, was it? you walk down the aisle that takes you nowhere except where children are. i watched you. i watched and observed. it was not a stroll. it was the gait of a predator. you tend to recognize your own, don’t you toby?

i’m not a pedophile, but you caused my hackles to rise. you’ve been touched by the very darkness that once occupied me. i know of your father. and i know something you don’t… his name is satan and he has an end.

so after seeing what i saw that morning, i exhausted official channels of inquiry. they wouldn’t give me your name for “privacy’s sake.” in all honesty i didn’t need your name. i had a proof that ran deeper than anyone of them could fathom. so i came back to the library where you setup your post; after one of the mothers overheard me debriefing my own progeny on your potential danger, asking, “Do you think she understands?”

i went back to that library to find you still sitting there. so i went to the stacks and found two titles suitable to give me a cover. i sat down next to you toby, because i know you and i do not fear you. i needed to prove one thing to myself: that you were not mentally ill. as i rotated the title not in my hand towards your position, you changed. the mood shifted. tension beset the atmosphere between us. because i think you recognized me and i was very much not apart of your predatory schedule. and i think you saw the title, “Confronting Evil” – and you knew why i was there. your jovial oafishness was put off for nervousness and tepidity. when i saw how you read the room and my presence – the level of your lucidity poked through. you are not mentally ill. you are a predator hiding in plain sight.