Tom

Tom had dreams of his own but couldn't explain his dreams to anyone. He did know that he wanted to be free and to run with the penguins; or even have one of his own. He could play with it at bath time at the weekend. After all he was far to big for plastic ducks now wasn't he?

'Are you ready now, asked Malcolm, peeping his head round his bedroom door.
It's lovely and sunny. Everyone's in the mini-bus but you.
Tom jumped down heavily from his bed; where he'd been stretching his arms as he tried to get a hurrying spider on the edge of the rose wallpaper.

'Good to see you have your clothes on but I hope your taking your penguin slippers off. They don't quite go with your tartan jacket and trousers or your zebra socks come to that.
'Shan't go, he shouted out at his ex best support worker as he landed with a thump on the floor.
He felt a bit happier though as he caught sight of a picture of his mum. A mum who he thought would be there forever. Yet he could still speak softly to her picture as she sat near a cactus, a fizzy drink, a toy giraffe and his little red purse with his spending money in it; next to a wide brimmed black hat he'd purchased on holiday the previous year.
Tom bent to kiss his mum, on the edge of the frame and told her he still loved her and missed her so very much. Then he picked up once more the very same scarf she was wearing in that photo and pushed it deep in his pocket. No longer could she tell him that she loved him for just being him.
Tom then followed Malcolm back down the long hall whistling as he walked. He thought again about penguins; he just didn't seem to be able to get them out of his head.