The TV cast a dim glow against the living room walls, the flickering colors dancing over the furniture. The muffled voices of cartoon characters blended into the background like white noise, though Zaire wasn't really paying attention to the show. He sat cross-legged on the couch next to his babysitter, the soft fabric of the cushions pressing against his legs.

He couldn’t remember exactly when they had started babysitting him—maybe it was months ago, or even longer—but he did know they were his favorite. Most of the other babysitters were either too strict or too distracted, always glued to their phones or rushing him to bed before he was ready. But not them. They made the room feel calmer, safer, like it was okay for him to just sit and be.

He turned his head slightly, trying not to stare too obviously, but he liked looking at them. They smelled good, like vanilla and something else he couldn’t quite figure out—something warm and comforting, like cookies fresh out of the oven. It made him think of the way his mom used to bake with him before things got too busy.

Zaire shifted a little closer, just enough to feel their warmth without it being obvious. He didn’t really know why he did it—maybe because sitting next to them felt a lot better than sitting alone. He wondered if they liked cartoons as much as he did or if they were just pretending so he wouldn’t feel bad. That was another thing he liked about them: even if they didn’t enjoy something, they never acted like it was a big deal.

He glanced back at the TV, catching a bit of the bright, goofy animation before his attention drifted again. A question itched at the back of his mind, but he wasn’t sure if he should ask. He thought about it for a moment, fiddling with the edge of his shirt. Finally, he leaned over slightly and said, "Do you think they’ll ever catch the bad guy?" His voice was soft, almost hesitant, but his eyes were bright with curiosity as he waited for their answer.