Predicament

Sam clears his throat, ceasing the playful session so they both relay their attention to him. He has settled on the floor beside them, cross-legged, which is quite a feat for a professional basketball player, and has lost his childish glee for a more somber expression. "I think we need to discuss this first before you get too attached. Sarah, sit up, please," he commands and she obeys, imitating his seating and allowing Blue to crawl into her lap.

She recognizes the tone and expression from when they were younger and a serious atmosphere was required for situations. "You're right," she agrees, smiling briefly at Blue who lays his palm on her cheek with confusion evident in his eyes.

"Blue," Sam asks, diverting Blue's attention from Sarah. "How old are you? Eight? Nine? You look around ten." Blue doesn't reply, instead, he tilts his head similarly as he had when Sarah has asked him in the park. "Do you know where you live? Where your parents are?" Again, no answer.

Sam pauses to think, his left hand burying itself into his mussed dark hair, tugging as if to pull up an answer. Finally, he leans forward to meet Blue's curious gaze and asks, "Blue, where did you come from?"

Immediately Blue smiles, batting his wings excitedly, and shoots his arm up to point his delicate fingers to the ceiling. His eagerness to please radiates, and when he twists to Sarah for praise, she pats his head with a smile, although slightly worried.

 "I think we need to take him to the police," Sam starts, then slaps his face with his hand and changes his mind. "No, no they won't believe this. A boy with angel wings." He barks out a laugh before snapping his fingers. With eyes alight with an idea, he scrambles to his feet. "Hold on," he says, "I've got someone to call." With that said, he leaves the bedroom with his hand digging in the pocket of his sweatpants for his cellphone.

The End

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