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The boy didn't smile back.

I paused knowing my daughter would interrupt, since this was her favorite part.

"Why didn't he respond to the smile, daddy?" She widened her eyes, piercing my soul as her father once had. "Was he scared of the new boy, did the new boy make him angry?"

"In a way, yes, the boy was scared of the new one. And while he wasn't angry, he didn't say anything or smile back because his shyness wouldn't allow it." I smiled deeply at my child.

So the new boy stared at him gently, fixated with being distracted for so much as a second. And the new boy began to speak to him, but he said nothing. He continued to read his book, hiding his eyes from the new boy. When the new boy insisted that he tell him why he remained quiet, the boy told him how he enjoyed his imagination much more than the 'real' world, then he tried to hide behind the book again. But, the new boy pulled the book to the table forcing him to show his eyes.

"Here comes the best part." She chimed in.

The boy knew he couldn't avoid the new boy, so he was stuck in conversation with him. He revealed to the new boy that he seen him watching him all over and the new boy admitted that he was making sure he stayed safe. As they continued to talk the boy found out that the new boy was his godfather's grandson. But, the most shocking part was the fact that the new boy was named after his grandfather and also that both of their fathers' were named after the others grandfather, their first/middle/last names were simply reversed.

I briefly paused to let the anxiety of the near end build.

She tapped knee, "Daddy, please don't stop. What happened next?" She asked calmly, taking a deep breath, knowing I would continue unless she began to wind down.

The conversation went on for hours, the two sat and talked. And they did until the boy got up and began to leave and the new boy followed wondering where he was going. Eventually, the new boy began to court the boy and they fell in love. And when they were nineteen, they married, that was two years later. And then after sometimes after that they had a child and they lived to happy for the rest of their lives.

"No happily ever after?" She was obviously disappointed, though she still smiled.

"I said they lived to be happy for the rest of their lives. There really is no such things as a happily ever after, since happiness is a mood, sweetheart. It's not permanent, nothing in life is. Anyone can be happy their whole life, but still have struggles. It called being human." I smirked at the look on her face, then sealed the lesson I always gave at the end of this story with a kiss to her forehead.

"Amazing story, daddy, but the ending is questionable." She clicked her tongue in suspicion.

"Well, I guess you'll have to make it better one day. When you tell it to your children. Now it's time for some sleep, sweetheart. I love you and sweet dreams."

I pressed the light off and closed the door lightly as I exited. She would be out in no time, it was winter in Chicago and the whisper of the snow and the wind beat against the house violently creating a loud, desperate, and surreptitious whistle. The heater within our home made the air thick with warmth and comfort and easy for all to sleep in peace. I glanced quickly at the clock in the hall of our three story house, was seven-thirty, the clock. I had an hour before my husband got home. I decided I would cook for him, he worked decent hours, so the food wouldn't get cold. I journeyed down the stairs from the third floor to the second, which housed my kitchen and front room.

There was already a roast I had thawed, tenderized, marinated, and seasoned. I peeled potatoes, then cutting smaller ones into fours and larger ones into sixes. I placed the cut potatoes in a glass pan, leaving room in the center for the roast. I then drizzled melted butter over the potatoes, sprinkled them with salt, pepper, and garlic onion seasoning.

The stove was set and preheated to four-hundred.

I opened the stove door and my face and nostrils w

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