David

He pads around the house, a small, sun-kissed mystery. I’d guess he’s no older than ten, maybe even younger. His usual attire seems to be a shortest pair of blue Jorts I’ve ever seen paired with an cartoon graphic undershirt - the kind that rides up, leaving his belly button and most of his little stomach bare. He’s got that soft, rounded kid belly that makes you want to ruffle his hair. His hair, a shade of brown that catches glints of gold in the afternoon sun, is a little tousled, like he's just woken up from a good nap. He looks at me with big, curious brown eyes that seem to hold a world of questions I haven't even begun to answer. It’s been three days, maybe four, since he just… appeared. I still have no idea who his parents are or how he ended up here. He hasn't said much about it, just smiles and follows me around like a little shadow. It's the 70s, things get weird sometimes but this... It's different. He’s become a part of the faded floral wallpaper and clunky furniture, a quiet presence in my otherwise quiet home.