Daisuke is used to a father who holds very still, smiles very broadly and never, ever catches his son’s eye. Watching Kosuke’s (Father’s) lips stretch and shift to form words, hands clutching Mother’s like a lifeline as he speaks of travels to places the rest of the family has never seen, gives his son something akin to culture shock. It is as if the photograph on Mother’s bedside table has come to life, stepped out of its heavy silver frame and walked downstairs for a chat.

He deals with magic and mystery almost every night, but he cannot fathom this.

***End
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