Tiselle
I was still laying in bed, trying to coax myself to leave the comfort of the warm blanket, when I heard the little boy from the day before shout for someone to wait for him. Hoping he was shouting to his father, I finally climbed out of bed and quickly made my way to the door.
As I reached for the doorknob, I heard the boy ask, “Do you know where my dad is?”
“No. Do I look like your dad’s keeper?” a woman’s shrilly voice asked in return, and the tone of her voice made me want to slap some sense into her.
Wanting to know who was talking to Blaiz’s son in that tone, I cracked open the door and peeked out, just in time to see the boy look down at his feet and quietly mumble, “No. I just thought maybe you could tell me where to find him?”
“Yeah, well, maybe you shouldn’t think.
