He was a boy. Sitting on a couch, his dad beside him, an open book shared between their laps. His dad’s lips moved, his eyes lit up with mock drama, reading the story that obviously enraptured the very young version of Thomas. A small spark of joy flashed in his chest. He didn’t want it to end. No, he thought. Please don’t take this away. I’ll do anything. Please don’t do this to me. The bubble popped.
