I dreamt of father James that night. He looked sad as he spoke to me, but for some reason, I couldn’t hear him. Whatever it was he was saying, I didn’t want to hear it, because I shook my head and walked away. As I woke, unhappiness sat on my chest like a stone, weighing me down. I searched my mind and realized it was the remnants of the dream that made me feel that way. Perhaps, I wasn’t happy father James was sad, unfortunately there was nothing I could do about it.
The week went by pretty uneventfully. Peter acted coldly towards me, even though I tried several times to speak with him. When I woke in the morning and looked over to his side, his bed would be neatly made and he would have already have gone out. It was only in the evenings he came back to the room and walked straight to th
