~ Lily ~
The house feels smaller.
I don’t know why.
It’s the same.
Same couch.
Same table.
Same spot where my sock got lost that one time.
But it feels different.
Like when you wear your shoes for too long and they start to feel tight even though they still fit.
I sit on the floor with my colouring book, but I’m not really colouring.
I’m just… moving the crayon.
“Mama,” I say, looking up at her.
She’s in the kitchen again.
She’s always in the kitchen now.
“Yeah, baby?” she answers, but she doesn’t look at me right away.
“Are we moving?” I ask.
She pauses.
Just a little.
Then she turns.
“Why would you ask that?” she says, her voice soft.
I shrug.
“It feels like it.”
She studies me.
Like I said something important.
“I don’t know yet,” she admits, walking closer. “Why?
