Ethan walked into the room a moment later, his messenger bag finally left behind on the kitchen floor.

He stood three feet away from the table, his arms hanging limp at his sides.

“Sit down,” I said.

He sat on the very edge of the sofa, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees.

I picked up the Braun thermometer, pressed the release button to pop off the used protective probe cap into the wastebasket, and snapped a fresh clear cap into place.

I turned on the device, holding the digital screen up so Ethan could see it clear the previous reading of 104.1 degrees.