Rosabelle fell asleep easily but Tom-Tom was snarled in the sheets, punching his pillow mercilessly into a shape that immediately fell back into two lumps by his head.

He had to find out. He just had to.

He stood in front of the largest mirror in their house, the one in the hallway foyer. He had turned only one light on by the stairs.

Tom-Tom faced his own image, studied every line, noted positions and differences in shape. He understood how his face was distorted--his left eye a tad bigger than his right--and knew that Ros would notice this first in the morning.

But he had to do it. He just had to.