He lay, slumber, neck perched against the wooden desk covered in a sage silky cloth. Teeth rested against his bottom lips. Through the gap between his teeth is a low-pitched breathing, like a tea kettle finishing its brew in the rhythm of the rise and fall of his stomach. While his thick eyebrows resemble their origin contradicting to the bristly stubble on his head, parading his full cheeks that melt into his quivering chin. His thighs represent the one’s of his mothers with natural aging much to evident for such a young child. His stomach exhibited its roundness, open to the still air.