Lately I was getting lost too much in my thoughts. Andre was looking at me, strangely, and he had already finished all of breakfast, even the milk and the banana. When I noticed his bright blue eyes fixed on me, I reacted:
“Hey. You’ve finished already,” I said, with a little smile, in a low voice. “Was it good?”
“Very good, thank you.”
“I’m glad. What do you want to do now?”
“…um, nothing. I don’t feel like reading or playing,” Andre told me, with all his innocence, and rested one arm on the table and his chin in the crook of his elbow, while he watched me with the same attention his father sometimes did. “You look a little like my mom.”
That left me stunned for a moment, and at first I didn’t know what to add. I gathered my courage, because I was going to need it if we were going to
