Epilogue
The room was smaller than Tyler had remembered. The condensed space should have made getting ready a lot easier, but that wasn’t the case. He peered around the room, not seeing anything that had gone missing. And instead of continuing to search calmly, he freaked out. At that moment, his nerves and the room were in a parallel state—both a mess.
He sat on the corner of the bed, the one spot not currently covered by a suitcase and its wares. Then he closed his eyes, counted to ten, and reopened them. Nothing changed. His body still shook, his heart pounded, his mind raced. And the good fairies hadn’t come to clean up the disaster that had once been his childhood room, but now resembled what would be left if his dad’s house had been the epicenter of a seven-point-two magnitude eart
