Moving

He awakes from dreams of simba and dinosaurs and is unsure if he is still in the jungle. As he slides off his bed he remembers falling asleep in the warm arms of his mother. He moves across the floor without sound except for the piddle patter of his little feet on the wood floor. Dreaming a colorless dream his father awakes in the next room to the sound of the pitter-patter feet on the wood floor. The father sits up awaiting arrival of the son. The son reaches two hands onto the bed and pulls himself up like a little gymnast. Once on the bed he crawls towards his father's outstretched arms, then past said arms, and fits himself snuggly against the sleeping mother. The father debates whether to turn the TV on. She stands against the couch looking at her wiggles book. Her brother runs up and pushers her. She cries. The next day she takes her wiggles book to the corner and reads. The next day she takes her brother's dinosaur just to see him scream. He's on the subway car, towards the back. The stop arrives; he fights his way thru the crowd, making a path for the door. As he reaches the door, people are streaming onto the car so he just surges a head people bumping off his sides like a pinball machine before it goes tilt. She sees hes not moving. Hasn't moved in years. She waits. She moves, slightly. She waits some more. She moves some more.