დ Rosalie დ
The next morning, I didn’t bother pretending I was going to do anything else. I made my mother tea, set out the toast she barely touched, and waited until she drifted back to her room to lie down again. She looked drained after the night before. Pale. Fragile. Smaller somehow. But even as she moved slowly down the hallway, I could still feel the wall she had put up between us.
Protection from the town.
Her ‘explanation’ had stayed with me all night. They were vague. Frustrating. Useless on their own. But they had to mean something. I went straight to my father’s office. The room smelled like dust, old paper, and the faint trace of machine oil that had soaked into the wood over the years. I had started to associate that smell with anger now. With questions. With the slow unra
