Obi waddled down the hall to the little boy’s room of whom was in her care, going on nine years now. She knocked on the door and heard the boy’s familiar voice, “Who is it?”
“It’s Obi, honey”, she said.
“Oh, come on in, Obi”, the boy said.
The woman turned the knob and opened the door.
The boy was sitting cross legged on the floor, toys scattered about.
Obi stood before her charge, clenching her hands, her lips pursed, head bowed, saying nothing, wishing she’d never watched that box the family called ‘the television’.
Finally, the boy said, “What’s up, Obi? You okay?”
“Mmmm hmmmm”, she said.
Then she said nothing more.
The boy stood up and said, “What is it, Obi?”
Obi slowly raised her head, looking the boy in the eye for the first time. “John Davis?” she said. “What is outer space?”