Page 6 of Till Orc Do Us Part
“Mom says I’m clever.”
“I do not doubt it.”
He draws another curve. “You’re not scary.”
“Most would disagree.”
He shrugs again. “They don’t know you.”
Something sharp and unfamiliar twists in my chest.
“You should go soon,” I say, voice softer than I intend.
Jamie looks up, unbothered. “Can I come back?”
I hesitate. Every instinct says no—this is not a place for children. But against reason, I find myself saying:
“If you ask your mother first.”
He beams. “Okay.”
Sliding from the chair, he gathers his notebook and turns to go. At the door, he pauses.
“You should name your buildings,” he says. “Then they won’t be lonely either.”
The door clicks shut behind him.
I sit there for a long time, staring at the half-finished tower on my screen.
"Name them."
I shake my head, exhaling slow.
Still, I reach for a sticky note. After a pause, I write one word:
Home.
Jamie taps the pen against his chin, head tilted.
“Do you name your buildings?” he asks suddenly.
I blink. “Pardon?”
“Like pets. Mom names everything. Our toaster’s called Burnie.” He grins, gap-toothed and bright. “Buildings are big. They should have names.”
I lean back, arms crossed.Name my buildings like pets.No one’s ever asked me that—not in my seventy-five years. Not board members, not architects, not the polished sycophants who line my halls.
It’s ridiculous. Childish. Pointless.
A low rumble escapes me. Not a sigh. Not a growl.
A laugh.
The sound surprises me more than him. It’s deep, rare, worn at the edges from disuse. Jamie beams like he’s won a prize.
“There it is,” he says. “Told Mom I could make you laugh.”
I shake my head, amused despite myself. “You are persistent.”
