Chapter 4 - The Mac-and-Cheese Horizon
By the second week, Beatrice had decided to stop fighting the house and start changing it. She didn't have much, but she had a trunk full of art supplies, old books, and a deep, intuitive understanding of what it meant to be unseen.
She started in the playroom—a pristine, sterile room filled with high-tech toys that Leo never touched. She brought in rugs. She brought in soft blankets. She brought in the smell of baking bread and the messy, chaotic joy of finger paints.
One afternoon, Leo was sitting in the corner, staring at a blank wall. Beatrice sat on the floor, about five feet away, and began to draw a sun. Not a perfect, artistic sun, but a big, messy, orange-and-yellow smudge that looked like pure happiness.
“The clouds are jealous of the sun,” Beatrice murmured, not looking at him. “They try to cover it up, but the sun is stronger. It doesn't need to shout to be heard. It just shines.”
She felt a small movement. Leo had shifted.
“Why are they jealous?” he asked. His voice was like a pebble dropping into a deep well.
“Because the sun is warm,” she replied. “And some people are afraid of the warmth because they’ve forgotten what it feels like.”
Leo crawled forward, just an inch. “Is my daddy afraid of the sun?”
Beatrice’s breath hitched. She looked at the boy, his eyes wide and searching. “Your daddy loves you, Leo. He’s just… he’s had a very long winter.”
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Leo picked up a blue crayon. “I don’t like winter. It’s too quiet.”
“I agree,” Beatrice said, handing him a sheet of paper. “Let’s make it spring.”
