His bed had been raised, and he leaned against the pillows. He had grown thin, his skin hanging loosely from his bones, yet his eyes remained bright and clear.
"Sophie, you're so busy with work. You don't have to come every day," he said, his voice hoarse and unclear.
"Uncle, aren't you mistaken? I don't come every day. I didn't come yesterday," Sophie sat on the stool beside the bed, playfully dodging the truth.
Matthew thought for a moment and smiled. "You really think I'm senile? You came yesterday, and the day before that too. Don't try to fool this old man."
Sophie smiled as well. She picked up an apple and a fruit knife from the bedside table and began peeling it with practiced ease.
The thin red apple peel curled down in one continuous strip. Matthew watched, somewhat mesmerized.
The four children had made a plan together: after school, they would take turns visiting their granduncle.
Hale was always the most enthusiastic among them and chose to go first.
