One more squeeze. Squeeeeek. And nothing.
Squeak again. But no reaction. The veil had fallen.
For days, perhaps even weeks after that, Walker seemed profoundly sad, disinterested. No matter how we positioned his body, he always, much like a needle on a compass, found his way to the light, staring out the windows, obsessively, incessantly.
Light was his true north. And the rest of us remained somewhere just to the east or west or south of his gaze, never in view.
From The Boy Who Loved Windows: Opening the Heart and Mind of a Child Threatened With Autism by Patricia Stacey. Copyright Patricia Stacey 2003. All rights reserved. No part of this book maybe reproduced without written permission from the publisher.
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