The boy squeezes an orange torch with his hands. It whirrs, like a tiny, quiet chainsaw. “What’s this for, Daddy?” he asks.
It’s for when the power goes out, Daddy says.
“And it doesn’t need batteries?”
It doesn’t.
“Why did you buy a toolkit? You’re not a builder.”
I might build something.
“Like a treehouse?”
Probably not.
“You’ve got lots of tinned food. I don’t want that stuff. Are you going to eat it?”
Some of it.
“Can I hammer too? I’m a really good builder.”
Sorry, no.
“I can’t see outside anymore, Daddy. Why are we blocking the windows?”
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