How awful it was, thought Tessa, remembering Fats the toddler, the way tiny ghosts of your living children haunted your heart; they could never know, and would hate it if they did, how their growing was a constant bereavement.
J. K. RowlingI havenโt got the heart to take the mickey out of him, even,โ said Fred, looking over at Ronโs crumpled figure. โMind you . . . when he missed the fourteenth . . .โ He made wild motions with his arms as though doing an upright doggy-paddle. โWell, Iโll save it for parties, eh?
J. K. Rowling