Kennedy
After lunch, Connor and my father go off to talk, probably about the ceremony tonight. My mother, Quirin, and I head up to my room to pack the rest of my things.
“I looked around last night and I don’t think I need to take much. Quirin has plenty of furniture, so I just want to take one of my smaller dressers,” I tell my mother.
As I pack up my things, Quirin takes them to the truck we brought. When I’m done, I look around the space that was my bedroom for eighteen years and realize that it no longer feels like home. Home is where Quirin is, and he was never here.
After we’re done, I shower and start getting ready for my brother’s ceremony. I’m not sure where Quirin went, but he comes in just as I finish getting ready.
“You look stunning, Kennedy,” he says, coming over strokin
