Camilla
"For Nina," Ava said, holding out the spoon to me, her small hands calm but her eyes full of doubt.
I stopped what I was doing and focused totally on her. "For Nina?" I asked, the name foreign to me.
"She's in my class," Ava stated, her voice quiet but steady. "She does not bring food to school. When others eat, she used to stand and watch."
Her words hung in the air, breaking the morning's flow. I realized that the extra spoon had been in her bag every day for a week. I hadn't questioned it because I felt it was simply one of her tiny quirks. I now understand its role.
Ava's gaze traveled awkwardly to mine, as if she were bracing for a chastisement. But all I felt was a strong flood of emotion—a combination of joy and wonder at my little girl's goodness.
I crou
