I've been sitting here for about an hour now.
"-and it was first mentioned in the 5th century BC. I heard that they are capable to heal sickness and render poison water potable," Timmy tells me, before looking up from his drawing and meeting his eyes with mine. "Since you don't look like a person that reads a dictionary every night: potable means safe to drink."
Unicorns. He's been giving me a whole explanation on what a unicorn is for about an hour.
"Oh another fun fact," he adds, as he completes the colorful mane of the unicorn with a pink crayon. "They're also known for being the symbol of Scotland."
I nod my head, as I admire his bright green eyes in awe. "That's cool, Timmy."
A yelp from the kitchen catches me off guard, and I immediately stand up to see what the problem is.
"Aunt Penny, there's a reason why these were invented," Alex tells his aunt, waving a pair of pink oven mitts in the air. "Now let me see how bad you hurt yourself."
She quickly shoos him away. "It's nothing, nothing. It doesn't even hurt."
He lets out a sigh. "Aunt Penny, that's been in the oven for almost two hours. Now let me see your hand-"
"Alex," she interjects, moving her hand away from his. "I've held burning coal before. This is nothing."
"Mommy, if I remember correctly, that was only a dream," Timmy pipes in, standing beside me to watch the event in the kitchen as well.
Aunt Penny turns her eyes on her son. "Oh," she says slowly, her brows furrowing in realization. "Oh my god, you're right, Tim-Tim."
"Okay, Aunt Penny, just show me your hand," Alex says, and this time she complies.
The burn isn't that bad. The fact that she had her hand on that tray for about five seconds before yelping in pain, it's surprising that it doesn't look that bad.
I sit on the couch, intrigued with the situation happening in front of me.
"Now breathe out," Timmy whispers, before letting out a big sigh. "And breathe in."
"Timmy. Honey, I-"
"Mommy, I said breathe in," he interrupts.
"Baby, this isn't necessary," Aunt Penny tells her son, as they both sit in the middle of the living room floor.
Alex emerges from the kitchen with two sandwiches in his hands. "Oh," he says quietly, taking a bite from one of them. "They're still doing this?"
"Mhm," I mumble, as he hands me one of the sandwiches.
Alex takes a seat beside me on the couch. "I'm actually happy I came here today."
I glance over to him, giving him a smile. "Me too," I agree in a quiet voice, as the mother and son continue their breathing exercise.
I find myself observing Alex, as he chews thoughtfully, kinda like a kid.
"Oh," he says suddenly, interrupting my quiet thoughts. "I wanna show you something."
I nod my head and follow him upstairs.
"My aunt used to take care of me when I was little while my parents went to work and you were at piano practice," he begins to explain, as we walk down the hallway. "She gave me a room in this house. Just for me. And it's still currently mine."
We take a right, walking straight into a room with walls covered in colorful posters of old movies.
I watch Alex collapse in the bed. "This room makes me really happy," he mumbles tiredly.
I find myself letting out a chuckle.
He sits up and taps the space beside him. "Sit."
I nod my head slightly and take a seat on the bed. It's actually really comfortable.
"Wanna talk about life?" He asks, as he moves himself so his back is resting against the headboard.
I let out a sigh. "Sure."
He starts tapping his fingers lightly against his leg. "So. Uh, a stupid question: are you happy?"
I tilt my head at the question. After a few minutes, I decide to reply with, "I don't know. Depends on what 'happy' means."
"Oh," he responds quietly. "I guess being happy could mean if you feel.. content with yourself. Being comfortable with how everything currently is."
I stare at the wall ahead of me. "Then no," I say with a shrug. "I guess I'm not really happy."
There's an awkward silence.
"Me too," I finally hear Alex say. "But not being happy isn't a bad thing. It just means we're still looking for that happiness, I guess."
I turn my head towards him with a smile. "Wise words, Alex."
"But I know words that are wiser," we hear by the door, realizing Timmy is there with a cookie in hand.
"Hey, Timmy," Alex says in amusement.
"Hello," he responds, as he nibbles his little snack. "Mind if I come in?"
I can't help but crack a smile.
"Come on in," Alex replies. "It's your house."
"But this is your room," Timmy adds, tilting his head at his cousin. "It's called having manners, Alex."
We watch him stare at the posters on the walls. "So where's Breakfast at Tiffany's?"
"Oh, I never watched that one, Tim," Alex replies, moving to sit directly beside me now. "So I don't really have a reason to put that one up."
Timmy's head immediately turns at his cousin's answer, his eyes wide. "How tragic. You never watched it?"
"I actually haven't either," I decide to pipe in.
That's when Timmy's wide eyes turn into a glare.
I mean, I think it's supposed to be a glare.
He still looks adorable so it's hard to tell.
"I'm telling, Mommy," Timmy groans in frustration, as he stomps out the room.
I let out a chuckle.
"What're you gonna tell her, Tim?" Alex calls out to him, clearly amused.
"That we need to watch Breakfast at Tiffany's," he shouts from the hallway. "Right now."
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