I didn't sleep.
No matter how many times I closed my eyes, Paris's words replayed relentlessly in my mind.
Children weren't supposed to carry truths like that. They weren't supposed to look at you and see through your every carefully constructed wall.
By the time the sky began to lighten, my body felt heavy with exhaustion and dread.
Morning came anyway....
The sound of small feet padding down the hallway pulled me from my thoughts. I sat up on the couch, where I must have drifted into a half-sleep sometime before dawn. My neck ached. My eyes burned.
Paris appeared first.
She looked… normal.
Her hair was neatly tied, and her pajamas had been replaced with a simple shirt and shorts. She didn't avoid my eyes. She didn't cling to me. She didn't look distant.
She smiled.
"Good morning, Mom."
My chest tightened.
"Good morning, sweetheart." I replied cautiously.
