“Enya, you're back!” Uncle Lucas said, when he noticed me standing by the doorway.
I had let myself in with my personal keys.
The house was wrapped in such a comfortable silence when I stepped in, that for a moment, I thought I was the only one at home and I had the whole house to myself— who knows, maybe he went out.
That was my thought, until I stepped into the living room and saw him—his figure slouched over, he was sitting on the only armchair in the living room, with a photograph clasped tightly in his hand.
I froze in the doorway, torn between letting him know I was here or just staying quiet. Common sense told me to stay back.
There was something intimate in the way he was holding that photo. It was as though it contained his entire world.
Instinctively, I knew it was a pri
