Peter reached into the closet and pulled out his black, wool, double-breasted coat. “You can wear my spare coat until we have the chance to buy you another.”

Arrin hesitated for a brief moment with his usual desire not to owe anyone anything, but it was frigid outside and he did need a coat, so whatever he would owe in return would be worth it. He took the coat and put it on. It was a bit tight across the shoulders and a little short in the sleeves, but it would do.

“Where’s your red scarf?” Peter asked.

“It’s in my room.” Arrin had stored it in his top dresser drawer. After a couple of days, he’d been able to overcome the color of it and to see it as red like an apple, not red like the color of blood. Since then, every...

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