Third-Person POV
Clara stood in the center of the small living room, a damp rag in one hand and a half-cleaned plastic cup in the other.
The house was a quiet mess.
Crayon drawings covered one side of the wall like a confused mural—stick figures, suns with too many rays, a crooked house, and a dog with wings.
She had stopped scrubbing them off two weeks ago. What was the point? Every time she wiped one away, three more would appear.
The floor was cluttered with tiny socks, Legos, snack wrappers, and a pair of scissors someone had used to trim the fake flowers on the windowsill.
A piece of blue yarn hung from the ceiling fan, tied there during one of the children’s “science experiments.” She didn’t know which of them had done it. Probably Nate. Or Jay. Maybe even Zoey. They were alwa
