I love watching Hannah in her tennis class. I get to watch from a viewing room above the courts where she can't see me unless she really strains her eyes to make me out. I love observing how she is on her own. In her own element. With her friends. I saw her run onto the court in her little pink tennis skirt, pigtails flying behind her, racquet uncomfortably dragging beside her. She ran right up to her friend and I saw her mouth moving with excitement as she told him a story. He stood there looking at her as she continued to talk, gesturing with her hands and head bopping back and forth. And then I saw her stop, looking for a response from her friend. And she spoke again. Still no response. And then, as if she could feel my emotions shooting through the glass of the window down to her, she looked up toward me, squinting to make out my figure, and when she saw me, she smiled a small smile and shrugged her shoulders. I knew that shrug. I know that if I was standing with her she would have given me that shrug and said to me, "Oh well. I guess he's not in a talkative mood today. He has nothing to say."