Three days have passed since the night of the storm.
The boys and I have slipped back into our normal routine – songwriting and recording from early morning to late at night, suppers around the kitchen counter, Alastaire and Ben drinking their body weight in champagne while Felix and Elliot look on disapprovingly, Lyall nagging me (sweetly) to sing for him.
No one seems to know about me sneaking out of the cabin three nights ago to visit Mia’s grave, or my too-close-for-comfort experience with Alastaire on the living room floor.
Even the puzzling events earlier that evening – Kitty and Felix and I getting stuck in an infinite loop between my house and the forest, the empty, darkened streets, the mysterious way that the trees seemed to open up before us as we walked through the storm – a
