The Prince and His Princess
Then I made my way to reception.
“Can we order from that noodle shop in town?” I asked, recalling the way Lila had once devoured a bowl of garlic chicken noodles like it was a sacred ritual.
“Of course,” Moira said, pulling up the menu on the computer.
“Just... order a bit of everything,” I said, slapping down more cash. “Anything she might eat.”
Moira gave me a long, thoughtful look.
“Has she been asleep all day?” I asked.
“She keeps her eyes closed even when she’s awake. Like if she pretends hard enough, the rest of us will go away.”
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