The Kids

I feel something tug at my coat.

“…Uncle Beckett.”

Peresphone.

Hades beside her.

And four more behind them.

Nieces. Nephews.

They stare at me like I’m something… impressive.

“…You’re like a ninja,” one says.

“…Or a ghost,” another adds.

“…Both are acceptable,” I reply.

They gather closer.

No hesitation.

No fear.

I kneel slightly.

Maintain distance. Gloves intact.

“…Did you make Mom’s logo?” one asks.

“…Yes.”

“…It’s cool.”

Pause.

“…Thank you.”

That feels… unfamiliar.

“…Favorite uncle,” one whispers.

“…Obviously,” another agrees.

I look at Diana.

“…Explain,” I mutter.

She smirks.

“…You’re consistent. Children respect that.