Colours.

Sea blue, forest green, rose red, sunflower yellow.

His heart had never been so excited.

He grabbed the small box with the colours and sat on the floor with his notebook.
He painted the tree leaves, the blue at the cliff and the flowers at the camp. He spent hours like that. He was so happy.

"Thank you."

He had stood up and walked to the porch where the man he called father sometimes, Sire most of the times, and the monster in his head was sitting. He was smoking a cigar, and reading a novel that the kid never read before.

The man looked at him with his penetrating green eyes. The boy imagined his eyes looking to someone else like that some day and his gut clenched in distaste. His father took a mouthful of smoke and swallowed it, as his eyes went back to his book without uttering a word.

Loneliness was worse if the only company you ever had is as chatty as a rock.