Bow and Arrow

I glanced out the window and saw the Mohawk kids in the parking lot. The older brother, age 9, was holding a bow and arrow. His right arm was pulled back and left arm taught and straight. He aimed at his brother's head, six inches away. I walked outside and crossed the lot. "Hey guys," I said as if I was offering cookies. I touched him on the shoulder. "If you lose an eye it's for your whole life. I don't want anyone to get hurt. Please don't aim your arrow at your brother or any people or animals, okay?"

The lady in building three called my name and slowly walked across the lot to talk to me. "Don't let those boys' mom see you telling them what not to do," she said.
"I can't ignore kids on the verge of blinding each other, I would feel responsible if they got hurt," I said. I knew it wasn't a problem for me to talk to the kids nicely. And anyway I like everyone. I didn't want anyone getting hurt. Last week there was a tenement cellar door open, the one with a five foot drop straight down. We called the landlord immediately and he came and boarded it back up. Thank God. I seem to see disaster everywhere I look.