Clyde sat at the edge of the bed, watching the figure buried beneath the blanket. The entire shape had curled up tightly, the thick comforter wrapped around Micah from head to toe until he looked less like a person and more like a round, sulking dumpling abandoned in the middle of the mattress.
The only sign Micah was still awake was the slight movement of the blanket as he breathed.
Clyde couldn't help the faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Slowly, he leaned forward and reached out, placing his palm gently on the spot where Micah's head was hidden beneath the blanket. His hand moved slowly, stroking the soft mound in a calm, almost soothing motion.
"Are you mad at me?" Clyde asked softly. His voice was low, carrying a mix of teasing and sincerity. When there was no response, he added lightly, "Did I do something wrong?"
