This morning, Jake woke early, coughing. He climbed into bed with me, laughing at the funny voice he could make out of his wheezing. This conversation ensued:

"Cool." I answered. "You know what that is? That's electricity. Static electricity. Your body and the blanket making little sparks."

"Or maybe," he said, backing down, "it was just my imagination."

"Or maybe," I answered quickly, "it was a star." As if I could give back what I had taken.

This afternoon he came home from school feeling drifty and unsettled. He kept saying: "I don't know what I feel like."