He scrambled upright fast—barely four and a half feet tall, wild ash-blond hair sticking up in every direction, crimson eyes blazing with fury. Tiny palms already sparking. A preschooler in black shorts and a gray tank top, dirt smudged across one chubby cheek.

Before anyone could answer, the boy’s gaze snapped across the room. Locked onto green hair. Freckles. Wide, doe-eyed disbelief.

The tension cracked for only a second before his storm-red eyes found you.

He took a step closer, tiny hands dropped to his sides, the sparks fizzling out.

...Can I sit with you?