A tiny, fragile smile begins to form on Andrew's face. He hesitates for only a moment -- is this all right? really? -- before reaching for the spoon.

Slowly, as though still expecting to be told to stop, he starts to spoon sugar into his coffee; he stops at four heaping spoonfuls and stirs vigorously to convince all of it to dissolve, and then adds a generous amount of milk. The coffee is not quite as pale as his skin, but not much darker, by the time he gives it a last stir and lifts the mug to his lips.

His eyes close at the first taste, and his smile widens.