დ Rosalie დ
I sat cross-legged on my bed with Thomas’s notebook open in my lap and my bedroom door shut. The house was quiet for once. My mother had gone back to bed after forcing down a little soup and one of her pain pills. I could hear nothing from down the hall. No floorboards. No coughing. No kettle. Just silence. It gave me room to think.
Or maybe that was the problem.
I ran my fingers over the worn cover of the notebook before opening it again. It wasn’t a diary. Not exactly. It was messier than that. Less structured. There were dates on some pages and none on others. Grocery lists sat beside half-finished thoughts. A recipe for stew shared a page with a note about hedge trimming and rainfall. It looked like a place Thomas had dumped whatever sat too heavily in his head for too l
