Chapter 5 - The Architect of Exile
The grey t-shirt shifted as the father propped himself up on his left elbow.
He leaned his heavy upper body toward the center of the bed.
He invaded the toddler’s airspace, bringing his bearded chin inches from the blue fleece onesie.
He needed to look the boy directly in the eyes.
He needed to search for a crack in the facade, a hint of a joke, a microscopic twitch of a smirk.
He found nothing but a vast, blank wall of toddler conviction.
"You want me to sleep there?"
The father’s voice cracked slightly on the last word.
He pointed a thick thumb over his own shoulder, jabbing it toward the beige carpet.
He was a man who paid the mortgage.
He was a man who had assembled the very wooden frame of the bed they were sitting on.
He was now negotiating for his right to sleep on a mattress.
The toddler blinked once.
His dark eyelashes brushed against his rosy cheeks.
He looked at the heavy grey blanket.
He looked at the space on the floor.
He looked back at the father's tired eyes.
The child’s brain, a chaotic engine of pure, unfiltered logic, processed the physical dimensions of the house.
He was running a complex mathematical equation regarding distance, comfort, and the ultimate goal of exclusive mother-access.
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He found the solution.
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