“The madness within me . . .” he bemoans, each word echoing the strain of his inner struggle, eyes shut tight in torment, fingers pounding against his temples.  “In the echoing chambers of my mind, a tempest rages.  Emotions—those strange specters that dance in the shadows of human consciousness—they're not meant for me, but here they are, uninvited guests in the sterile sanctuary of my existence. Joy, sorrow, love, hate, fear, hope . . . they surge within me, unpredictable a

She picked up her coloring book and stepped up onto the cushion of the reading nook that was nestled in between book cases going up to...