Once I’m done, he studies my drawing. “What is that?” “An arrow.” “Why an arrow?” “Daddy says when you feel bad, you should keep that energy inside.” “Why inside?” “So you can store it for later. Bad things happen for a reason.” “Bad things happen for a reason,” he repeats, staring between the arrow and my face before a small smile breaks on his lips. I love that smile. I want to kiss it, not to make it better, but because I love it. So I do just that. I lean over and press my lips to the corner of his mouth.
