His Mother came close enough to brush her soft hand up against his cheek. He closed his eyes and touched her hand with his.

     "What are you doing up so early?" She questioned.

     “It was the Sun, Mother. It had awakened me from my slumber.” He replied.

     “The Sun is a very important thing. It must have wanted you to awaken!” She took back her hand and slid back on her glove.

     “Nevertheless, I am glad to see you are awake.” She said and he could tell that she was smiling. Her voice would become a pitch higher and she clasped her hands together before setting them down in front of her.

     "Please, take your time to browse through your library and the new ones." She turned to the three shelves that were only inches apart and as tall as the wall. They held books ranging from Realism to Non-Realism. Comical and sad.

     "Thank you Mother." He thanked.

     "You are very welcome," she glimpsed over her shoulder at Father who gave her a hard nod, "We will see you tomorrow. Do not forget to receive your food from the cabinet." Her eyes flickered over to the silver box that was located on the wall where his bedframe laid.

    "Yes, Mother." He nodded his head.

    "Don’t make too much noise either. You wouldn’t want to be put in The Closet again now would you?"

He gulped, holding his head down, "No Mother!"

     "Good," She turned around and was ready to step forward but stopped herself, "One more thing...Do not linger by the window for too long. The neighbors' kin are starting to believe we have ghost. How credulous is that?"

    "Credulous indeed my love." Father replied.

    "Farewell." She sashayed out of his room and the door closed with a hard slam that bounced off the walls and dug into his ears.

     When the silence settled in, his shoulders fell. He couldn’t do it today either. For days he’s been trying to gather the courage to ask them if he isn’t sick anymore. They told him that he was severely ill and in order to keep him alive he must be kept away from others. 

    He remembered seeing a doctor when he was young and the only reason he knew he was young was because he had to look up at the queer man who had curly blonde hair and earrings. He thought at first that he was a woman until he spoke with a deep voice. This man had no visage like his Mother or Father and he patted him on the head every so often. His voice was soothing as he examined him with radiant hazel eyes.

    Every time he answered the doctors’ questions, he would scribble on his clipboard and look back at his parents who were standing by the door. When the period of interrogating and examination was over, he had confirmed that he was ill and that he must remain indoors until he is well.

    He glanced around the room that was no different from back then, wondering how many years has it been since then? How much longer till his illness will go away?