That night, as we lay in the tent, the forest finally quiet. Crickets chirped. An owl hooted. I closed my eyes, savoring the silence. Then Leo whispered, “Do you think owls have nightmares about mice?”
For the first time, I really looked. Leo wasn’t performing. He was fidgeting. His leg bounced. His hands moved constantly. And his eyes—usually hidden behind jokes—looked small and tired. -ENG- Camp With Mom and My Annoying Friend Who ...
I exploded. “Mom, he doesn’t stop! He’s like a human mosquito with opinions!” That night, as we lay in the tent, the forest finally quiet
“Why didn’t you just say that?” I asked. I closed my eyes, savoring the silence
Mom raised an eyebrow but smiled.
I stared at him. All this time, the chatter wasn’t noise. It was a shield.
“I know I’m annoying,” he said, poking a log. “My dad says I don’t know when to stop. But when I stop… the quiet gets loud, you know? Like, in my head. It’s scary.”