"Is Symour in his library?" Jack asked a rhetorical question. He then walked towards that particular place in the house before his wife could react.
"Where are you going, Jack? You can't stand before your son in that bloody form!" Alana was disturbed by how his husband was acting.
"I bet not. You know how Symour is. He's different from children his age." Jack replied and continued walking.
"You…" Alana had no choice but to follow. They saw their son Symour in the same exact place that they left him. The boy less than 2 years of age was still drowning in his books.
The latter looked at them but mainly at his father Jack with no emotion to be found on his face whatsoever. This cold apathetic gaze struck everyone in a depressing stillness.
No words or action was taken amidst the three characters that were lost in each of their own thoughts. This was true until a child's voice broke it in time.
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