Gentle fingers grazed his forehead and a soft golden light dressed his body like a warm blanket.

  “There, there…” came a soft, melodious voice, “He had a small concussion, but nothing that should hinder his memories or make him faint like that. If I must take a guess, I’ll say he is in severe shock. Something scared this poor child witless…”

  “W-who…?” Nate drooled, his eyes fluttering open to see the face of an angel kneeling over him at the end of an auburn locks’ tunnel.

  She smiled so sweetly a single tear broke away from his eyes.

  “There you are,” her thumb gently caught the runaway tear, “Worry not little one, you are safe now”.

  “Y-you can’t touch me…. I am filthy….” Nate mumbled dazedly.

  Her smile softened and she glowed like a loving sun… literally…

  “No, you are not, see?” ever so delicate, she grabbed the feeble hand he had raised to push hers off, and showed it back to him:

  Under the golden light, blood and dirt flaked away and banished straight from his skin. In a matter of seconds, the little hand that was now his, was perfectly cleansed.

  “Oh…” Nate said, eyes wide opened, “That’s nice…” and promptly passed out again.

  That night, when he came back to his senses under an unknown roof, he would stay awake, looking at his verry clean, verry childlike hands, muttering over and over a single question;

  “Did I just meet god?”

  “Oh, would you shut up already!?” the frustrated voice came to him closely followed by a flying pillow.

  The sudden voice and projectile made Nate jump into a corner of his mattress, and look franticly about like a cornered animal.

  “Wow! What the hell is wrong with you?! It was just a pillow…”

  “Hmm… what is it…?” another voice said groggily, “Ah, the new guy woke up…”

  “Who are you people!?” Nate’s eyes glanced about desperately in the dark.

  “Right… Hold up a second.” The drowsy one drawl and a moment later a match flicked an oil lamp alit.

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  He was in a small wooden room, an attic, judging by the tilt of the ceiling. There were two other beds besides his own, a prepubescent kid in pajamas occupying each; one skinny and dark haired and the other chubby and freckled.

  Apparently, the skinny one had thrown Nate’s a pillow earlier.

  After fiddling with a valve to adjust the light for a few minutes, the plump kid picked up a couple glasses from over a long trunk beside his bed.

  “Hy!” he said with a goofy smile, “my name is Uricov, but everyone calls me Uric, and that over there is Zoly.”

  “Hy…” said the other rather unenthusiastically, “Can we go back to sleep now?”

  “Zoly!” Uric chided.

  “Is the middle of the night! What would happened if mother Olga hears us?!”

  “She would understand. Our new friend here needs our help! He must be really confused right now.”

  “Fine! If you are so worried about him, why don’t you do it yourself!?” and on those words stretched his arm, grabbed the discarded pillow on the floor and hid his head under it.

  “Zoly… come on…”

  “Uh… sorry to interrupt, kids, but… uhm… where are we, why are you here…? And… are these pajamas I am wearing…? Are these clean?”

  “Well, yeah!” glared Zoly from down his pillow, “Far cleaner than the rags you had! And just who are you calling a kid, you runt!”

  “Hey! Who are you calling a runt…!”

  “Welcome to Saint Selene’s orphanage for the waif and downtrodden!” Uric interrupted with a grand gesture.

  “… That’s an awful name… I mean not the Saint Selene bit, that’s ok, but all the rest is… just depressing…”

  “Right?!” Zoly quipped, “This bubble head is the only one who can say that with a smile on his face.”

  “Come on you two. Like Mother Dana always says; names are what we made of them. We have to make the name of our home a happy one!”

  “Wait, our home? I am not an orphan. My dad is stinking rich!”

  “Ha!” Zoly barked, “And I suppose this mysterious rich father of your is either someone we never heard about, lives in a castle verry far away and for some reason or another can’t come to rescue you from the life of an orphan… Don’t go there, we have heard them all.”

  Nate raised a finger to protest, but he found that he couldn’t; something unnatural had happened to his body; he had somehow turned back into a kid and this definitively wasn’t Seattle… Could he ever find a way back home? Would his dad even recognize him if he did…?

  “I mean, he was never around when I was a kid, because I always took care of myself…”

  “Oh, bud…” Uric sat beside Nate, draping an arm around his shoulder, “we all here know how difficult adjusting to a new life can be, but I want you to know that… wait, is something wrong?”

  Uric just realized Nate was stiff as a board, muttering something under his breath:

  “…please don’t touch me please don’t touch me please don’t touch me…”

  “Sorry man I can’t hear you if you speak so softly….”

  “DON’T TOUCH ME PLEASE!”

  “Holy…!” Both kids jolted at his sudden scream.

  After a moment of awkward silence, Nate cleared his throat and spoke in a glib tone:

  “Please, don’t touch me without washing your hands first…”

  “Great…” Zoly grown, “The new kid is a nutjob.”

  “W-well, Mother Dana always says we shouldn’t rush to judge…” Uric started to defend him, when an angry nun barged through the door.

  “What’s all this ruckus!?” she was small, old as dirt and wore a pair of glasses so thick a diamond would have problems cutting them, but she carried herself with the presence of a pist off hurricane, “don’t you kids know what time it is?”