Emerson laid beside me on my bed, and we looked out the window, as the sun rose, and the sky appeared orange and yellow. " I am thinking about going back home," I said, turning to Emerson. " Why?" He frowned. " Well, I am bored, now that the war is over and I have nothing to do. So, I have been thinking about helping Aunt Annie with the bakery." I said. " But you can't bake." Emerson blurted out. I narrowed my eyes. " What? It's the truth." He said, shrugging. " Yes. I know. But I need something to do." I sighed, turning my face to stare at my ceiling. " You can pick up a hobby. Have you tried painting?" He asked. "I have thought about it several times. But I never attempted to do it. Meemaw was so great at it that I never thought of making a career out of it. So, I never tried." I said. "
