TWENTY-TWO
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“I guess I was wrong.”
Opening her eyes, Zara blinked to see Art standing over her in a brilliant white suit. “You... what?”
Sitting up, she looked left and right. This was the manor kitchen, except it wasn’t, everything was the same, but not quite right. The windows were whited out, and the place was immaculately clean and everything was brand new. Everything except the couch she was lying on, it was the same one she’d sat on while talking to Art on her first trip to the manor, old, worn, and comfortable.
Art sat down next to her extended legs. “I told you to look after him,” Art said.
“You’re... how are you here?” she asked, launching herself forward to wrap both arms around his neck.
“Oh,” he chuckled and returned her hug for a few seconds. Patting her back,
