Mercy
Something was different.
The moment that August walked into the house, Mercy could tell that something had changed. The weight in his eyes was unsettling, and when he looked at her, she felt like she needed to sit down.
She felt like she needed to melt into the floorboards.
“What is it?” she asked. “Did something happen? Is something wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong,” his mouth told her, but his eyes still said differently. “But we need to talk.”
“Did… something happen?” she asked.
August shook his head and came to her where she stood at the kitchen counter. She’d been cooking. Not that it was something she was good at, but she’d been trying. She had to wonder if she’d ever even done it before, but she knew how to read, so she could follow a recipe, or at least she thought she could.
