Tomas laughed, and there was something honest in it, a real release of tension. He scooted a little closer, leaned his head against the man's shoulder, and spoke very quietly.
"I don't know," he said again. It wasn't just a question of the years, or the exact date of his birth, or even the exact date that he'd left home. He honestly didn't know what you would call a boy forever trapped in a body this young.