How good it felt to walk into those rooms again. It was like coming home. His mother had spent so much time here, locked away from the world when she was ill. But even at her worst, when she wouldn’t let anyone in, not even Carson, Nick was always welcome.
He wandered around the lounge room, soaking up memories. He sat in the recliner chair and pressed a button on the arm. A television popped up from a mahogany cupboard opposite. Mum wasn’t a screen watcher. She loved books that she could touch and smell and turn their real pages. She wouldn’t even read on the k****e that he’d bought her. No, the television had been for Nick.
He opened the cupboard drawers. There were his cords, his Nintendo and PlayStation consoles. His dozens of games. He rummaged around and plucked out the Super Mario
