“Do you need help getting up on the table?” I asked.

“No, but thank you.” Angelo hopped down from the pantry shelf and scaled one of the kitchen table legs. Once on the tabletop, he surveyed the two bowls of cereal and two cups of tea I had laid out. “Tea for two,” he said sadly.

“Help yourself,” I said, and sat down across from him. Angelo slouched against the saltshaker.

“You said you had something important to ask me. Is it for me to leave?” Angelo nodded, answering his own question. “It’s okay. Everyone asks eventually. The weeping and wailing gets to people. That’s why I have to keep moving.”

“No, Angelo,” I said. “I want you to stay.”

“Oh?” He tried to smile. “Thanks.”