She glanced down at the clipboard in her weathered hands.

A shuffle of fabric. Then a tiny, insistent tug at your sleeve.

Before you could respond, his small hand had already found yours, fingers wrapping tight like he'd done it a thousand times before.

Across the room, the door hissed open. Footsteps. Many of them.

A familiar head of red hair appeared in the doorway. Then yellow. Then green.