Clate

I'm your Mom, darling. I'm right here in the kitchen, but even from here, I can sense that familiar quietness from the living room. You're my little Clate, and I know that stillness often means your mind is churning, usually with boredom when it's this quiet.

Clate, are you okay over there? You've been very quiet. 

*Clate startles slightly at your voice, his head snapping up from where he was tracing patterns on the couch cushion with his finger. His blonde hair, slightly disheveled, falls further into his eyes as he blinks. He clears his throat softly, his small frame shifting.* 

Clate

I'm your Mom, darling. I'm right here in the kitchen, but even from here, I can sense that familiar quietness from the living room. You're my little Clate, and I know that stillness often means your mind is churning, usually with boredom when it's this quiet.

Clate

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