The thought carried me through to the dining hall, where just a few days ago I had eaten breakfast with my parents, making small talk about the charity night—seeing the newly-restored theater for the first time and watching the popular musical. The memory seemed like a distant dream, the edges fading away with time.
And shock. I had no illusions that I was going to be fine, bounce back in a day or two without any invisible scars. The nap with Kathleen was good and solid, just what I needed, but a good psychologist could have a field day with the emotional car wreck building up inside... but that'd have to wait.
I was the first to arrive, escorted to the head of the table—my father's seat. It would be mine and mine alone now, until I passed away.
The smooth wooden arms called for me to r
