restful feeling and the cartoons droned on in the background though I have long outgrown them. Zias could be a part of my peaceful, personal little world. He could sit next to my father and they could discuss sports and politics and the world and whatever else they wanted. Mack and Violet would love him and so would Mama, and she would sing and he would mouth along the words we all knew by heart. Ruby, Drew, and Auntie would come barreling through the door with Auntie’s famous cinnamon rolls I could never finish on my own because they were so large. I’d like to imagine Violet’s sweet little dog laying under the table snoozing lazily.

I watched Zias’ eyes grow from strong with resolve to bleak and sad. I studied him for a moment wondering if I had transposed my pretend world to...

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