"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 propped his head against the arm of the couch and stared at the black ceiling. The window was still letting in a soft pale light from the ally, faintly illuminating the couch and coffee table despite the sheer black of the power outage engulfing most of the apartment. Leaves skittered into the ally, ushering the smell of autumn into the apartment and breaking Wrens thoughts. He loved the smell of fall, something about the crispness of the air and the slight aroma of rain.

Wren touched his hand to his thick brown curls and sighed, seven years shouldn’t seem like it was that long ago.