Taken aback by the serious and sensitive nature of the question, Fikri scratched the back of his head and looked outside, pondering his response. Meanwhile Habib sat on a loveseat near the window, occasionally shifting and looking around, waiting for an answer.

Habib, Fikri thought, was smart, had an inquiring mind, and liked to learn new things, but he was just a little boy. Should he trouble his young mind with questions of life and death? Admittedly, they had already touched on the subject in their conversation. And Habib knew exactly what it meant to die through the painful loss of his parents in a car accident. But his question was not about the death of human beings; it was about the demise of invisible, spiritual beings. Sure, he had read about fairies and witches, but in books they were made to act like real people. Was it prudent to expose him to abstract concepts, with religious connotations, at such a tender age? And yet, children seemed to relate easily to the notion of angels, especially around Christmas, when they figured often in carols and hymns. He decided it shouldn't be unreasonable, therefore, to expect Habib to think of angels as mortals as well. But instead of answering his question, he thought he would divert his attention, for now at any rate, away from this controversial and sensitive topic to the decidedly less esoteric and safer subject of bird behaviour. And with this in mind, he turned to Habib and said, "Have you been keeping an eye on our friend the bird?"

"Yes, Grandpa. It hasn't left its place on the tree. It jumped from branch to branch and then came back. Look! It's closing its eyes now. Maybe it wants to take a nap."

Relieved his tactic had worked, Fikri said, "Well, maybe you should too."

"Isn't that what old people usually do in the afternoon?"

"All right, smart boy, maybe I'lldo that. Why don't you instead go and tell your grandma about the birdie?"