CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Ros set the dirty towel in his lap and moved his hand to grasp mine, but he froze and drew his hand away. He lifted his eyes to one of the windows and sighed. “Brother Collins once told me a story about a boy from a fishing village. Every day he would go out with his father fishing, day in and day out, catching fish to feed their family and pay their bills. Finally, one day the boy asked his father why they did the same every day. What was the point of it all?”
I lifted an eyebrow. “To eat?”
Ros grinned. “Well, there’s that, but his father also told him that our role in this world was to make new stories for the world to listen to. Maybe their story wasn’t very exciting right then, but every story has to have a lull in the action, a time before the storm.”
I
