Nia noticed his eyes seemed shinier than usual, almost like he might cry. “Is everything okay, Mr. Witmore?” she asked, concerned. He blinked rapidly and tried to smile. “Yes, yes, of course. Thank you, dear. This is very kind. Something in his voice made Nia want to give him a hug, but she remembered her mother’s rules about boundaries.
Instead, she gave him her brightest smile. You’re welcome. Enjoy yourbreakfast. As she turned to leave, she heard his rocking chair creek, [music] and his soft, God bless you, child, followed her down the steps. That evening, after dinner and homework and her favorite TV show, Nia got ready for bed. As she brushed her teeth, she thought about Mr.
Witmore’s strange look. That morning, she wondered if maybe he was lonely, or if something had made him sad. Relle came in to tuck her in, smoothing the purple comforter around her daughter’s shoulders. “Did you say your prayers?” “Almost,” Nia said, folding her hands. She added a special prayer for Mr.
