Multigenerational
Why did everyone keep asking me how I felt? How did they expect me to feel? I felt rotten. I felt worried. I felt scared.
Scared about her falling and hurting herself.
And very very scared about what my friends would say when they found out what was going on.
How did I feel? What a dumb question.
One day, Johnny stuck his nose in his grandpa's closet and found a bottle. It was made of dark green glass. A sandy cork was plugged in the top. The sand was as hard as cement. Johnny took the bottle to the sunroom where his grandpa was snoozing. He jumped on the sofa. "What's in the bottle?" he demanded. "Well now, that's a puzzle," his grandpa said. "I never did figure that out." Johnny held the bottle up to the sun. A shadow lurked inside the green glass. There was something inside for sure.