T
I stare up at my mural thoughtfully, tracing the moon and stars with my eyes. I don’t think I’m really a night person, come to think of it. I love mornings, with warm sunshine baking my face and throwing bits of shadow around. But there is a certain mystique to the night, a dreamy elegance that Mommy’s talented brush seems to have captured.
I startle out of my thoughts as my door bangs open. Simchi stands there, his brow furrowed.
Hey little guy, I sign. How goes it?
He comes closer and peers at my face curiously.
