So for the next week, Soft Breeze was left in my room. She played, slept, ate, and pretty much did everything in my room with my supervision. She was a sweet little thing, always asking me about something before doing it, or asking a question I couldn’t answer, but gave a dumb little answer. “So where do trains come from?” Soft asked, tilting her head. Now, I don’t know where trains come from, but I would hazard a guess.