Anyta
The door closed behind Everett and the room fell quiet. His footsteps echoed through the hallway and then effaced with each step, but the air that he left behind still vibrated heavy, thick, like smoke after a fire.
I sat frozen, my eyes fixed on the empty space between us where he'd recently stood a moment before, my fists gripping the fabric of my dress so tightly that my knuckles ached.
Grandma Jo didn't reply at first. She simply sat there in her chair, eyeing me with piercing but kind eyes, folding her hands together neatly in her lap. She possessed a patience that could draw the truth out of any person. And in silence, I knew she was waiting—waiting for me to break the silence, waiting for me to speak.
Finally, she leaned forward a little distance, her voice even but firm.
