She stepped in further and quietly clicked the door shut behind her. Lydia crouched down by her bookshelf and grabbed a small paperback book off the bottom before coming to sit on the pulled out bed portion she had taken to sleeping on. Lydia sat cross legged and leaned forward to plant her elbow on the edge of the bed, hands holding the book open.
"I think you'll like this story then, it's by Rudyard Kipling who wrote the Jungle Book. These are Just So Stories," she cleared her throat then began to softly read about The Elephant Child.
"IN the High and Far-Off Times the Elephant, O Best Beloved, had no trunk. He had only a blackish, bulgy nose, as big as a boot, that he could wriggle about from side to side; but he couldn't pick up things with it. But there was one Elephant—a new Elephant—an Elephant's Child—who was full of 'satiable curtiosity, and that means he asked ever so many questions. And he lived in Africa, and he filled all Africa with his 'satiable curiosities...."