The word is guttural, almost swallowed in is throat. I try to repeat it. “Rooookh.”He snorts and taps his chest again. “Rukh.”“Oh, are you going to correct me, then?” My mouth curls up in a half smile. “Then let’s start with my name. It’s Harlow. Not Ar-loh. Ha-r-low. Ha in front. Like ha ha ha ha.” I repeat the sound.“Ha ha ha,” he echoes. “Ha ha ha-ar-loh.”I giggle. “You’re terrible at this.
-Ruby Dixon
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