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Having found said bathroom, Stella stood with legs akimbo, gripping the edge of the sink and gazing at herself in the mirror. She was not one who generally succumbed to such hallucinations and she was having a hard time coming to terms with what she thought she had seen.

She raised a trembling hand and lowered first one eyelid and then the other, but found nothing she considered remarkable in the moist, veiny interior. Sighing heroically, she gave herself one last splash of water and after blotting her face dry, marched purposefully back out to the bench, her chestnut hair creating natural blinders.

She sat and closed her eyes, hands gripping the front edge of the bench. She concentrated on her breathing, willing it to slow. "In... and out... In... and out..." she chanted inside her head. She was just beginning to calm, when she felt someone reach out and lay a hand on top of hers.

Stella could tell it was a small hand and she thought that perhaps the person must be wearing gloves, because she could feel a softness on her hand that skin could never have achieved, no matter how well moisturized. She thought that perhaps a child, seeing her in distress, had sat down on the bench to comfort her. Tentatively, she opened one eye and peered through her hair at her would-be caretaker.

Through the sepia maze, she saw only colors, without much discernible shape. Grey, tan, red, white, brown. So, she tilted her head a bit, her curiosity overpowering the little voice in the back of her head that was shouting at her, that knew that something wasn't quite right. It was then that she saw the spots. And the neck -- the unbelievably long neck. And the tongue, wrapped around a leaf that it had plucked from above her head.

She would have screamed -- she had one ready, all loaded up in the back of her throat -- but it was then that she saw his eyes. They were big and brown and deep and edged in lashes so long she thought she might get lost in them. They were so beautiful her heart ached and that ache stifled whatever noise she may otherwise have been capable of making.

He was smiling encouragingly at her and he gave her hand a little squeeze. She had been right, in one respect -- he was a child and he was definitely trying to comfort her -- he just wasn't human. She tried smiling back, and managed, if only faintly. He reached up his long tongue to catch another leaf and it took all of her willpower not to let her jaw drop. He munched and gazed at the giraffes in the enclosure. They had been his family, once.

"H-h-hi," Stella finally managed to stammer. "I-I'm Stella." He swung his massive head around to look at her again and she marveled at the musculature of his neck. He bobbed his head at her slightly and blinked, waiting. "Are you... I mean, did you come from... I mean... It's nice to meet you," she finished at last. He bobbed his head and smiled and she felt suddenly that everything was going to be OK.

Patting his hand, she stood and walked over to the enclosure, pointing at the plaque that was attached to it. "It says here that your name is 'William,' is that right?" His head bobbled again in his customary gesture, and he twined his fingers with hers, his other hand holding a nest filled with three small eggs, as though ready to leave.

"I got my wish," Stella remarked reverently, shoving her handwork back into her bag. She spared a curious glance at the nest, but said nothing. Instead, she smiled at the boy, at William, at her son, and led him home.

.:In Which They Arrive Home:.

The walk home was uneventful. Stella spent most of the time oogling up at William, already a head taller than she, and he passed the time by swinging his knobby head to and fro, taking in the new scenery and extending his long tongue to sample various leafy plants. He would glance down at her occasionally, causing her to snap her head away, blushing furiously. His mouth would quirk in a small smile and they would continue on, this pattern repeating sporadically all the way home.

When they reached Stella's modest yellow bungalow, she led him up the front steps and dropped his hand as she fumbled for her keys, smiling nervously and babbling reassurances. William merely shifted his nest to cradle in both hands and waited patiently, staring down at her through those silken lashes.

She finally managed to bumble through the door, stooping to pick up a few carelessly dropped articles. "Uh... well, this is it. Um. Home." She felt strangely uncomfortable, showing this boy her dwelling, as though after even the scant wilds the zoo provided, her home would not be good enough for him. William bent his neck gracefully to peer inside, smiled and entered. "Home," he breathed. It was a good word.