The mute six-year-old girl ran straight
into the giant biker’s arms at Walmart,
frantically signing something
while tears poured down her face.
I watched this massive,
tattooed man in a Demons MC vest suddenly start signing back to her fluently,
his hands moving with surprising grace as other shoppers backed away in fear.
The little girl – couldn’t weigh more than forty pounds – was clinging to this scary-looking
biker like he was her lifeline,
her small hands flying through signs I couldn’t understand.
Then the biker’s expression changed from concern to pure rage,
and he stood up,
scanning the store with eyes that promised violence,
still holding the child protectively against his chest.
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