It was one warm afternoon and the way the sunlight bled through the windows, framed by billowing curtains, was just perfect. With a subject in mind she settled behind her tall canvas, gripping her paintbrush in earnest between callused fingers and began her work.

Her subject, a small mousy boy no older than ten, sent her that familiar smile as he realized what she wanted to do. He let himself relax against the windowsill before going back to reading the book that lie on his lap, his free foot dangling carelessly below him, looking very much like any kid of his age.

But she knew better. He wasn't like any kid at all. He was unique, extraordinary. And while she carefully traced the scrawny form looking almost in danger of being blown away by the wind, she couldn't help but note the title of that strange book that held his attention. Fundamentals of Quantum Physics, the cover read and that little voice of common sense would chime in that it was far from what boys would usually interest themselves.

Of course she was proud of her son. Any mother faced with the possibility that their child might have some kind of gift would be beaming with joy. It had cheered her that not only she finds her boy fascinating but other people do as well.
In fact, too fascinating, she thought, to the point they forget that underneath that sharp intellect was only a child. It wasn't right to keep him away from his childhood. It was unfair that his peers should treat him any differently.

Yet in the end, the boy didn't mind. The soft azure glow of nameless wisdom in his eyes was hard to even capture in her paints and oils.

The world would never understand him.

But she believed she would and that's all that matters.