The Girl is having trouble sleeping. The neighbor’s dog is barking beneath her window. She’s reading and drawing with the light on. I’ll check on her in a few minutes and tuck her in and slide the paper out from under her arm and admire her drawings and put her pencil away and quietly, quietly turn off the light.

From The Boy’s room, a gentle murmur. I stand where he cannot see me, just beyond the light outside his door, and listen. And my heart swells with pride. He is reading.

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