He could not explain the almost mystical effect the baby’s bed had on him. It was sick, he knew, perverted and inexcusable, but he was powerless to resist, unable to stop himself. Kim lowered the drop side of the crib to the height of the bumper pad, removed the boxes and sat them on the floor next to of one of the rows of book boxes. With a magician’s flare, he pulled a dish towel of white terry cloth from the front of his shorts, where he had secreted it while in the kitchen on his way to the basement.
After wriggling his hand around in the other pocket amidst a metallic jangling as if of coins, he laid two large safety pins in the outstretched palm of his other hand.