I wondered how he’d been; my father hadn’t mentioned him lately. The markers, however, had made Ella’s entire week. Waves of dark hair hung across her face as she worked, and the tip of her tongue pushed between her lips. She finished decorating a rock, then slid it across the table to join a group of five others. “Do you want to see?” she asked. “I do,” I said as I stepped into the room and leaned down to study her work. Ella’s attention shifted instantly to my shorn hair. “You’re not sick, are you?” she asked, eyes wide. “No, no, no.” I wrapped my arm around her shoulder. “I just wanted to do something to surprise your mom.” “Wow,” she said, unable to take her gaze away from my head. “Show me.” I tapped the table, wanting to shift focus back to what she’d created. On each rock she’d drawn a person, cartoon-character style. A woman. A girl. A man. Another woman. A boy. Each figure wore a mask, like a superhero. At least, I hoped they were superheroes and not a group of bandits ready to hold up the Paris Market.
