“Gaphillia!” He shouted in unparalleled glee. His marker flipped and twirled as he scrawled onto the wall.

“Lagam, bointy, hoguash,” he wrote, the letters long and shaky, pressed and looped. He happily sat on his cushioned chair, leaning over the side of the chair and stretching his arm to write. His feet dangled over the ground, not quite being able to reach the floor. A grin spread across his small face.

“Gaphillia, gaphillia, gaphillia,” he chanted. “Gaphillia, gaphillia, gaphill-“

“Hollen!” A female voice shouted over his chanting, cutting him off. He turned toward her with a frown on his face.

“What did I tell you about writing on the wall?” The woman strode over to him, ripping the marker from his tiny hands. He pouted, crossing his arms.

“Children,” his mother spat under her breath as she stomped to the kitchen to find a cleaner.

“Gaphillia,” was Hollen’s only muttered reply.