Casimir and I spent a lot more time together after that. I showed him my projects and writing peices, which he would read throughly and with great interest. I would really open up to him and talk about the struggles of fitting in. “So you were what was called a ‘rainbow child?’ Hmm. That’s unique,” he considered. You know, it’s funny, but I’ve never seen a rainbow before. Not that I can remember, anyways. But I promise the next time I look at the daytime sky, probably out of a window, I’ll look for a rainbow. And I’ll think of you,” he added. Of course, I had to show him the ornament that January gave me. “I call it home,” I told him. “I like to think of my town as that. But I know that life isn’t all rainbows and sunshine, though,” I concluded. Casimir didn’t say anything to this, just like I never directly asked him about his illness. In a way, I felt similar around Casimir that I did when I talked with January. I felt lucky. I felt like I had somebody to talk to; someone who understood me.