Idan seemed to consider that.

Then he produced a small wrapped package from behind his back.

Inside was a wooden pencil box with her initials carved into its lid.

Adam had helped him sand the edges and make the hinges smooth.

“I wanted to make something for your new school,” Idan said.

Clara ran her thumb across the letters.

For years she had felt invisible while polishing objects that belonged to other people.

Now a child had made an object for her, simply because she mattered to him.