1gQ4hRW

“There was a boy. Another boy. Before this one. We’ve
never told you. We’ve never told him. He looked just like him.
We named him. He was everything. We were different, then.
Our first boy. Eric. We needed him. We were young. We were not
unhappy. We might be happier. We had a son. He was beautiful.
We were happier. He was everything. But then. When we went
to him, he backed away. He stopped laughing. He backed away,
into corners. We wondered. He became pale. We should not have
wondered. We waited. We should not have waited. We carried
him, in. They kept him in. Is there a danger We’re unsure. We
went home, for the evening. I wished to stay. She didn’t wish to
stay. It was uncomfortable. We’d return, in the morning. There’s
no danger. We left him. Then. We were dressing. A phone rang.
Her face ... changed. No, there’s no danger. Now. Not now. Sinking
down. She changed. Instantly. She’s a different woman. We
both changed. She wouldn’t say...I’ve changed, but I’ve changed
more. I couldn’t show it, for her. Time even passed. We remained
changed. I did not think we would be happy. We had a son. Another.
Our Boy. You know him. He is beautiful. He is everything.
We’re different, now. We are not unhappy. He is happy. That’s
the only thing. I would do anything. For Eric, I would have done
anything. But I do not think of him. I try. I can’t even think. I
can only think...he was alone. I would have done anything. I
loved him more than anything. He was alone.”
My Master is taciturn. On no other occasion has he ever
spoken so much to me. Though I remain uncertain as to why he
chose to reveal this information, I nonetheless prized it, and continue
to prize it; I filed it instantly in my Memories.
During the whole of his speech, my Master had not
looked up once, but continued to stare at his book. He looked up
at me only after he had finished. The Boy’s sadness—as when he
has broken his toy—has a plain character. It is temporary and
thin, like a Halloween mask. The sadness of my Master, as he observed
me, resembled more a true face, after the mask’s removal.
But this may not be the case. Though I am an excellent judge of
emotion—I can identify over seventy distinct emotions—I am
10 Writing Tomorrow Magazine