Papa Bruno Pt 4

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Camilo had the gift of shapeshifting. Sometimes he was so glad. Other times, he hated it. he could pull off jokes, pro. He forgot himself sometimes, con. He could chill with the kids, pro. The kids often exhausted him and left him hungry from all the shifting. He could change little imperfections, pro. He never had time for teen stuff, con. He could pretend to be people and get information, pro.

He could pretend to be people and get information, con.

You know how you hear something you really, really, really wish you could unhear? And you have to keep it a secret that you know except you don't and you could tell people that you know, but everything you know would change because the secret was so big and daunting and people would start treating you differently and you don't want that to happen?

Well, let's just say Camilo heard something he really, really wished he could forget. Something so earth-shattering he didn't know how he could have forgotten about it. Something so big he was so tired of keeping a secret. Something that spurred so many questions that he doubted anyone would answer because he was silly little Camilo and he never took anything seriously and why was he asking anyway, what had he done this time! But his questions weren't something he could answer. Not without some sleuth work.

He never wanted to do sleuth work again. It had got him to this point, and it would only raise more questions. The questions he already had were enough for him, thank you very much.

He needed answers, but he had none. The best he could do was piece together some sort of story before he fell asleep. Each and every single one sounded wrong. Each and every single one had some sort of hole in the story, something that made the fabric of the idea unravel and fall onto a heap of string on the floor.

Well, he had time. He had to go to sleep for as long as he lived, after all.

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