"Oh." She lowered her head in disappointment, not arguing, and ate her breakfast slowly and deliberately, too embarrassed to look at him.
Later, he woke up from this dream.
Sylvan Cheney didn't know why he always had such mundane dreams; that little girl had appeared in his dreams many times.
Her personality wasn't much like Jasmine Yale's; he once thought it was Little Clementine.
Later on, he dreamed of carrying a young girl upstairs and kissing her cheek.
That's when he realized it couldn't be Little Clementine.
But a dream is just a dream, and there's no point in overthinking it.
By the time Sylvan Cheney refocused his thoughts, Jasmine Yale had already undone her hair tie, letting her hair fall back over her shoulders.
Sylvan Cheney frowned and picked up the comb again: "How would you like it tied? I'll help you."
Jasmine Yale said nothing and casually tied her hair into a ponytail.
"Then let's go, it's getting late."
"I'll go home for breakfast."
