He used to be a loud kid. Wild. He never sat still.

But ever since we came back from the farm last fall,

he won’t talk above a whisper.

And he only sleeps in the barn now.

Wrapped around Daisy, the cow.

Mom thinks it’s cute. Dad says it’s a phase.

But I heard what he said the other night when he thought no one was around.

He whispered into Daisy’s ear:

“I didn’t tell them it was me.

I know you saw, but you didn’t tell either.

Thank you.”Daisy didn’t move.

She just blinked. Slow.

Like she understood.

When I finally confronted him, he cried.

Not out of fear—but relief.

He grabbed my hand and said,

“Don’t open the toolbox.

Don’t show them the photo.”

I didn’t know what toolbox he meant. Until this morning.