A Mission

Image of Short Story
I saw a man, a handsome man. He was with a boy clearly his son who may have been about 15 years old. The boy had the same features as his father though more delicate. He has fine blond hair and skin that was almost transparent.
The man was holding on to the boy. First with his arm around him, then a little later linking his arm with his son's, like comrades. Finally, the father held his son's arm above the elbow as one would to lead a blind person but the son was not blind. His eyes were unfocused.
The boy arched his body away from his father's and cupped his hand to his ear, listening to a voice inside his head.
The father continued on his task, steering the boy through a store with both aisles and eyes hemming him in until he reached the check-out. The father paid for his purchases all the while holding on to his son who was now humming loudly. He now held the boy firmly, restraining him. The father's face was stony and resolute but he seemed neither flustered nor embarrassed: he was well-practiced. The man wore no wedding ring. He was alone in his endeavor.
Finally in the parking lot the father let go of the boy who whooped and jumped and skipped with inner joy.