![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() Just a year ago, he would have been able to put a smile back on that face with a joke, or a song, or some half-made-up story about the constellations shifting all around them, but Daniel was getting to that dreaded age where kids are impossible to talk to. Robin sank back in his seat, heaving a sigh that got lost in the muffling hum of the pod’s engines. “It’s not every day you get to cross into a parallel dimension,” Robin said. What he did mind was being left out of the loop. He didn’t mind changing schools, and languages, and identities every time his father needed to track down a dangerous psychopath. It wasn’t the adventure part that bothered Daniel. “Right.” A surprise trip with a dad like Robin was always an adventure. “Once you’re finished sulking, I think you’ll find this trip to be quite the adventure,” Robin said brightly. He hadn’t stopped fidgeting since they left the space center. “You say that a lot.” Daniel frowned, then pulled his knees up to his chest to rest his chin on them, his feet still tapping absently on the edge of the seat. “I know, and I’m sorry to throw you into this on such short notice, but I had no choice.” Robin looked up from the control array to offer his son a smile. “So, Dad, you realize when I said I’d be okay with moving again, this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.” Daniel Thundyil leaned forward, drumming his heels against the side of a seat that was still just a little too high for him. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |