Ricky, just two years old, slept in a nest of blue blankets. His thumb had slipped from his mouth, and his breathing was the deep, even rhythm of a child who had run and laughed and stacked blocks until he simply ran out of day.
Her real name was too long to say with a human tongue, but she was the guardian of little boys' rooms after dark. Her job was simple: make sure the shadows stayed friendly. luna baby rickys room
Ricky smiled in his sleep. He wouldn’t remember her in the morning. He wouldn’t remember the wardrobe-cat or the sleeping dust bunny. But he would wake up feeling brave, feeling safe, as if someone had tucked a tiny, secret piece of courage into his pajama pocket. Ricky, just two years old, slept in a nest of blue blankets