Dakota didn’t really own any luggage. Or furniture. Just a whole lot of miscellaneous clothing, a few of his mom’s old trinkets to be handled tenderly, and a single box of personal belongings that he actually cared about. While he shoved his clothes into garbage bags and tightly wrapped the trinkets in newspaper, the box sat unattended next to his bed. He never unpacked it to begin with, even though it contained the things he valued the most, apart from his new necklace.
It made sense, in a way. He never felt at home here. These things—photos, small gifts, and artifacts from his childhood and happier times—they were better than this place. They deserved to be out in the open, but with people who could appreciate where they came from and what they meant. Even Aiden wouldn’t really “get” ha
