He responds well to gentleness, routine, and food. He asks intelligent questions and has begun studying maps. He still eats too little unless prompted. He usually pretends to be fine when he is not.
I stopped. The words sat there, far too revealing.
I almost crossed them out but thought better of it.
How troublesome.
I signed the letter and sealed it. William would send it through a secure array. If my mother read it before arriving, perhaps the damage could be minimized.
Perhaps.
That or I'm being optimistic, a rare and dangerous state.
"That was very fatherly," Abi said.
"Do not start."
"I only said fatherly. I did not say kind or any other positive things."
"Wow. Your survival instinct finally improved."
"Some things take time."
A knock came at the door.
"Enter."
Bernard stepped in, bowing. His face carried the pale stiffness of a man holding bad news and hoping it would not explode in his hands.
