He was a boy filled with his own brand of kinetic energy. Even when he was standing still, she thought she could hear it. A sort of humming. A kind of tick, tick, tick. The sound of a string being wound tight. The hiss of a match being lit. So even though she saw laughter in his lagoon blue eyes, she worried for him.
PS My gratitude knows no bounds for Melanie of Modello Designs (such creative talent!) and the generosity of each and every one of the Peacock Painters. A special thanks to lovely Gwen who worked steadfastly on Tristan's room for 4 days straight. Shoukran. (And shoukran again. )