He used to be a loud kid. Wild. He never sat still.
But ever since we came back from the farm last fall, he won’t talk above a whisper.
And he only sleeps in the barn now. Wrapped around Daisy, the cow.
Mom thinks it’s cute. Dad says it’s a phase. But I heard what he said the other night when he thought no one was around.
He whispered into Daisy’s ear:
“I didn’t tell them it was me. I know you saw, but you didn’t tell either. Thank you.”Daisy didn’t move.
She just blinked. Slow. Like she understood.
When I finally confronted him, he cried. Not out of fear—but relief. He grabbed my hand and said,
“Don’t open the toolbox.
Don’t show them the photo.”
I didn’t know what toolbox he meant. Until this morning.