Patricia

　　I open the fridge to take out some milk while my bread is in the toaster. Light is dancing in through the window, and Finn is happily eating a burnt toasted sandwich. It was his first attempt using the toaster, and he insisted he didn't need to try making another one. The bread turned black, but his eyes glittered with happiness the moment he realized he had 'cooked' his first meal.

　　I observe Finn from the kitchen counter in secret. My heart might ...