The second he saw it, Cyrus stilled. I watched him taking it in. He didn’t speak, didn’t move for what felt like an eternity before he said, “You painted a Christmas tree on your wall for me?” “Yes.” I waited, hoping it was the right thing. Almost immediately, he started crying. It was quiet, but he didn’t have to look my way for me to know. “I can cover it if—” “No! Please don’t.” He turned to me, his face splotchy. “No one has ever been this nice to me. No one has ever made me feel like I matter. I’ve always been something people can throw away. I don’t know how to deserve this.” “You
...more
