“What are we celebrating?” she asked, and he quickly pulled the CD out of the hamster-rabbit’s box, his hands slightly shaking.

Prudence ran her hand over the cover, and for a moment Alvin thought he spotted a smile. A rare occurrence that usually presented itself when they went up to the seventh floor, stood by the big glass windows, and basked in the warm sun.

“Nice,” she said.

“It’s the Bealers,” he replied. “Your name, it’s because of them.”

She didn’t say a word, only blinked heavily. Alvin leaped out of bed, plucked from the junk pile a broken boombox they had collected a few months back. He placed it on top of the small fridge and plugged it into the socket.

Prudence reached out a long arm and grabbed Alvin’s shoulder.

“No noise,” she said. Alvin insisted they listen only for a few moments. Prudence said no. Eventually a compromise was reached.

“You can play it,” she said, “but with no sound.”

Alvin snatched it out of her hand, carefully opened the case, and inserted the CD into the stereo, making sure no sound came out, fearing his mother would change her mind. He went back to sit by his mother. They sat shoulder to shoulder, gazing at the blue digits changing on the display. The CD kept skipping. Alvin sat up straight while Prudence brushed her hand through his hair. Finally he got tired and lay down on the bed. He stared at the hamster-rabbit who lay next to him, until he closed his eyes and fell asleep.

When Alvin woke up she was no longer there. He tried falling back asleep. Unsuccessful, he opened his eyes again and noticed the hamster-rabbit’s box perched on the boombox. He jumped out of bed and leaped toward the box. It was washed clean. Empty. The air halted at the tip of his nose, refusing to enter his body. He searched behind the fridge but there was nothing but broken glass and a piece of chocolate that had melted and congealed. Then he started canvassing the room, rummaging through the junk, tossing aside clothes and pans, exposing the dirty tiles. He stomped his feet on the floor, kicked a kettle. Then he turned around, and only then spotted his mother. She was sitting on a plastic chair by the door, pressing her face into the small slit between two cardboard squares, looking out. He walked up to her. “Where?” he asked.

Prudence didn’t answer.

“Where?” he asked again, tugging on her pants, hard. “Why did you take her away?” he cried. She didn’t even notice him.

Alvin walked out the door and stood in front of her. He saw her eyes staring at him, filling with fear, then her hand reaching out and pulling the cardboard squares together until they concealed her completely. He waited there for a few minutes and gave up.

4.