Carl and I have moved to a different room at the other end of the corridor. Noise travels fast and easy in this house, and Francois is sleeping in the room next to mine. He wants to sleep, and we don't want to disturb him. This is rather a similar room, a bit smaller, with just one dormer jutting onto the roof. It is almost completely dark now. Carl is reclining on the bed and I occupy the armchair. I am afraid he is going to fall asleep on me. He has smuggled from the kitchen a large bag full of semi-sweet chocolate chips which we gladly pass back and forth.
"I was just fifteen when Kenny came to live with us fulltime. It was Christmas, and I gave him this diary as a gift. He seemed to always have lots of interesting thoughts ideas and insights, and I thought he might want to write some of them down. Here is his first entry, the day after, Boxing Day. And, isn't it my turn for some of the chocolate chips?" Smiling, Carl passes me the bag. I swallow about a half dozen, then set the bag on the desk nearby.
"Um, thanks", says Carl.
"Like you couldn't use the exercise", I mutter, passing him the bag.
"I promise to stay awake", he says lazily.
"Ready?"
"I am waiting with baited breath."
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