The afternoon sun filtered gently through the coconut trees in CUTIS’s backyard, where the familiar chatter of a little baby monkey named Lolo usually brought laughter to everyone. CUTIS had raised Lolo since it was barely old enough to climb. The two were inseparable—sharing meals, playing in the garden, and even napping together under the mango tree.
But today, something felt different.
It started when CUTIS was working on a drawing for school. He had been carefully coloring a picture of a big farm—his dream farm—with chickens, ducks, and a pond full of fish. The crayons were neatly lined up on the table, each in its proper place. CUTIS had been concentrating for an hour, humming quietly to himself.
Lolo, meanwhile, had been hopping from chair to chair, clearly looking for some entertainment. His bright eyes darted to the table and landed on something shiny—the box of crayons. To Lolo, this was no boring set of coloring tools; it was a treasure chest. And in Lolo’s mischievous mind, treasures weren’t meant to stay still.
Before CUTIS could stop him, Lolo leapt onto the table with the energy of a tiny acrobat, scattering crayons everywhere. Some rolled under the couch, others bounced into a bowl of soup on the counter. Lolo thought it was the funniest thing in the world and started chattering in triumph.
“Lolo! No!” CUTIS shouted, scrambling to grab the crayons. But before he could gather them, Lolo reached over and swiped his hand across the drawing paper. The careful coloring—hours of work—was now a mess of smudges, with a banana-shaped doodle Lolo had decided to add.
CUTIS froze. His eyes widened, then filled with tears. “Why did you do that?!” His voice cracked.
The sound of CUTIS’s voice, so sharp and pained, startled Lolo. He hadn’t expected his playful act to cause real hurt. CUTIS’s lips trembled as tears rolled down his cheeks. He pushed the paper away and sat with his head in his hands.
Lolo’s playful energy drained away. He stepped closer and reached out a tiny hand to touch CUTIS’s shoulder, but CUTIS gently pushed him away. “Go away, Lolo. You ruined it.”
The words stung. Lolo didn’t fully understand human language, but the tone was enough. His little ears drooped, and his eyes became glassy. He chattered softly, almost apologetically, but CUTIS had turned his face away.
For the first time since coming to live with CUTIS, Lolo felt something heavy inside—like a knot in his small chest. He had made CUTIS cry. He didn’t know how to fix it.
That night, Lolo sat alone in the corner of the kitchen while CUTIS ate dinner silently. Normally, CUTIS would sneak him bits of banana or sweet potato from his plate. But tonight, there was no sharing. No smiles.
When everyone went to bed, Lolo curled up by the window instead of his usual spot beside CUTIS. The moonlight bathed his small figure, and he gazed out at the shadows of the forest. He remembered the tall trees, the smell of the river, the chatter of other monkeys. Maybe… maybe he didn’t belong here anymore.
By dawn, Lolo had made up his mind.
When the house was still quiet, he tiptoed—well, tip-hopped—across the floor, climbed onto the windowsill, and leapt outside. He didn’t take any food or toys. Just himself, and a tiny, heavy heart.
The world outside felt bigger than he remembered. The air was damp, the leaves still glistening with morning dew. Lolo moved quickly through the bushes, his little hands gripping branches as he climbed higher and higher, putting distance between himself and the place he had called home.
Back at the house, CUTIS woke up and immediately noticed the empty spot beside his bed. He checked under the table, behind the curtains, and in the kitchen. Nothing.
“Mom! Lolo’s gone!” CUTIS’s voice was high and panicked.
His mother stepped outside, scanning the yard. “Maybe he went exploring. He always comes back.”
But CUTIS shook his head. Something in his heart told him this wasn’t just another playful escape. He remembered the look in Lolo’s eyes the night before—hurt, confused, almost sad.
Meanwhile, Lolo had found himself at the edge of a small stream deep in the forest. He sat on a rock, watching the water ripple. He dipped his tiny fingers in, but it didn’t cheer him up. His belly rumbled; he hadn’t eaten breakfast. He tried nibbling on a wild berry but spat it out—it was too sour.
By midday, the forest didn’t feel so friendly. The wind rustled the leaves in a way that made him shiver. He missed the smell of rice cooking, the soft blanket CUTIS wrapped him in, and even the silly songs CUTIS sang while cleaning his cage.
Back at home, CUTIS couldn’t sit still. He grabbed a small bag, filled it with banana slices, and told his mom, “I’m going to find him.” His mom hesitated but saw the determination in his eyes and nodded.
CUTIS ran toward the forest, calling softly, “Lolo! It’s me!”
The sound of his voice traveled between the trees, faint but familiar. Lolo’s ears perked up. He froze, listening. The voice came again, a little closer this time.
“Lolo! I’m sorry I yelled! Please come back!”
Lolo’s little heart thumped. He scrambled up a nearby tree, trying to see where the voice was coming from. Through the leaves, he spotted a flash of CUTIS’s red shirt.
With a joyful chatter, Lolo swung down and landed on the path right in front of CUTIS. CUTIS dropped the bag of bananas and scooped him up instantly.
“I’m sorry, Lolo. I shouldn’t have told you to go away. You just wanted to play.” CUTIS’s eyes glistened again, but this time with relief.
Lolo wrapped his tiny arms around CUTIS’s neck and buried his face in his shoulder. The warmth, the smell, the familiar heartbeat—it was home.
They walked back together, the bag of bananas swinging in CUTIS’s hand. That evening, CUTIS sat on the floor with Lolo in his lap, showing him how to color gently without ruining the paper. Lolo tried, holding a crayon awkwardly but carefully. It wasn’t perfect, but CUTIS laughed and clapped.
From that day, they made a quiet promise: CUTIS would be more patient, and Lolo would try—really try—not to turn everything into a disaster. Of course, there were still mishaps—Lolo was a baby monkey, after all—but whenever trouble came, they remembered that nothing was more important than finding their way back to each other.
And so, the little monkey who thought he had to leave to fix his mistake learned that home wasn’t about being perfect—it was about being loved, even when you mess up.
