"It's supposed to be a rabbit".
"It's not a rabbit"
"Right, but in theory, it's a rabbit”
“Technicality of its being. It’s not a rabbit”
Jane smiled at Wren as he pulled his fingers away from the flashlight, “You know if you weren’t my brother I wouldn’t be telling you this. I’m informing you out of the goodness of my heart, and my want to protect you.” Wren laughed, “I think you just don’t understand impressionist art. What can I say, shadow puppetry such as mine isn’t for everyone”. “Or anyone” Jane said, leaning back into the aged leather cushions of Wren’s couch.
Wren touched his hand to his thick brown curls and sighed, seven years shouldn’t seem like it was that long ago.