Something Like Elena
I ask.
“It stopped playing,” he says, eyes locked onto it, fingers gripping the edges.
“Oh?” I reach out gently. “Can I see? Maybe I can fix it.”
Without hesitation, he hands it over, sniffing loudly as he does. I catch the congestion in his little nose, the way he breathes through his mouth to compensate.
“Hey,” I say, rising to my feet, deliberately not letting my gaze linger on the wall of photos staring back at me. I grab a tissue from a nearby box. “Let’s blow your nose, okay?”
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