The door slammed behind Eloise, the click of her heels beyond fading into the deafening silence that wrapped around us like a heavy blanket on a scorching night.
“Always with the dramatics,” my father sighed, leaning further back into his chair and propping an ankle on the opposite knee. “The way she talks…anyone would think that I have her locked up in some horrifying dungeon.”
“Not a dungeon.” I cringed when I heard my voice in the silence. Saying that out loud hadn’t necessarily been my intent. My father looked at me, the question in his eyes. I shrugged and reached for my glass of water – anything to occupy my hands. “A cage,” I said. “even if it’s gilded and comfortable, is still a cage.”
My father shifted and for a second, I thought he might be uncomfortable. I could count the
