Six-AM sunlight streamed through the windows of the hospital waiting room, stretching polygonal sheets of light across vinyl couches, coffee tables, and armchairs.
I remember a blue light in a white room. A high ceiling bisected by a dark wooden beam. A smell, perhaps, like the inside of a vacuum cleaner bag.
Jacob deals with the emotional fallout of goldfish suicide and enters the strange social world of dog ownership.
Jacob questions the artistic value of coloring, then learns a valuable life lesson from his first-grade teacher.