Marcelle is

#16 Marcelle is encouraging

❝This is extremely important. Will you please tell Santa that instead of presents this year, I just want my family back. No toys.❞

Kevin McCallister

Although Matthew feels like death in the morning [he probably looks like death too], today feels a bit different. He had a better time standing up this morning.

He doesn't feel as hopeless as he used to.

It might be the fact that it's a cloudy day, which allows vampires like him to walk among the living, or maybe it's something with his first West Side Story rehearsal. Maybe he's happy today, because he carries the stench of being in love around everywhere.

He feels like a girl in a chick flick just when her life clicks together at the end. Except his mother isn't cured from cancer and he hasn't seen her since she banned him from visiting her.

He respects his mother, and if she asks for space, he will give it to her.

He doesn't slap on a random shirt from the top of the pile with a jean he ran beneath a lawnmower—he has an entire array of shirts before him to pick from. He's not even going to slap back on the same pair of boots he usually wears, he's picking between a collection of hi-top sneakers. He even tries to style his hair, albeit the messy strands didn't allow much other than to stick up and lead electricity back into the ground.

He picks his favorite shirt—a novelty Star Wars shirt. He even pairs the shirt and black jeans combo with a jacket instead of a flannel—he's pulling out all the stops today.

He walks out of his bedroom humming Duran Duran to his own tempo. Autumn jumps over her threshold with two dolls, one in each hand, and a mismatched shirt and shorts combo. She is already reeling in an active day as early as the hen coos.

He sneaks up behind her before he snatches her up in a big bear hug. He swings her around in the air and she clings to him like an insect to a windscreen [just with added laughter]. He loves the laughter of a small child—it's the music of life. Laughter is the music of happiness.

"Matty!" She giggles. "Lemme' go."

"Lemme' take you to your royal morning feast, my princess." He fixes the plastic tiara on her head. She grins toothlessly at him—he didn't even notice that she pulled another tooth.

He puts her down on a stool. Today Bebe is in the cooking mood, scratching eggs together to shape a mush edible enough for Autumn. He makes it his own mission to fix some toast in a toaster that vaguely reminds him of the Ghost Busters automobile. Old, but good.