The tissue fairy has been hard at work here.
Little white tufts adorn my house. Here, on the kitchen table. There, on the couch. One on the bathroom counter, and another atop the hamper.
One laying in the upstairs hallway, a single corner fluttering slightly every time I walk past it.
I hope that every dollar my son spends in his life gives him as much sprawling joy as the dollar he gave me for that stupid box of tissues.