That hot summer afternoon we were all lounging together and watching Mary Poppins. He was not there because he had broken his leg and he was kept upstairs in his room. It was then that we heard this alarmingly loud noise. Clearly something had happened upstairs. Something, broke. Within minutes everyone rushed to his room. I followed. He was on the floor, prostrated, on a bed of broken glass. Blood formed patterns on the cold white stone floor. Panic stricken they all ran around mindlessly calling eachother, calling the doctor, the servant to clean the broken glass. He was silent. The room was silent. As if their voices formed a silhoute against our silence. I walked up to him and was just about to help him up when he said, "Don't touch me." I drew back. "You'll hurt yourself."I looked at him and watched him infuse pain in utter silence. Stillness enwrapped.
I moved up, hunkered down and held him by his arms and with all my strength I pulled him up.
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