"Why don't you play with the other kids?" A mother's voice inquired. "It's good to have friends, you know." She said once again, making the boy resting on her lap think over her words.
They sat on a couch in a rather unimpressive family home. The boy had an impressively dark hair, and just like his mother, had the insignia of the Lord engraved on his left hand.
"They don't like me." The boy with the black hair answered after a bit. "They call me short."
The mother brushed the boy's hair, smiling while she did so. Though the boy couldn't see her smiling, that did not stop it at all. She said softly, "Don't worry about that - you don't need to be friends with them. Find some people who will be nice to you and treat you kindly. People that make you happy."
