Chapter 3
718 Words
The first thing Nora noticed was the drawer.
It should not have stood out. The dresser was old, the wood scuffed from years of use, its handles dulled with age. She had passed it dozens of times since coming home without giving it much thought. But that morning, standing in her mother’s room while Evelyn slept, Nora couldn’t look away from it.
The bottom drawer sat slightly misaligned. Not open. Just… off. Enough to make her notice it.
She told herself it was nothing. Old furniture warped over time. Houses shifted. Still, she found herself kneeling while running her fingers along the edge.
Locked.
Nora straightened quickly, as if caught doing something wrong. Guilt came too easily in this house. It always had.
She went about her morning routine, helping her mother sit up, bringing breakfast, listening as Evelyn commented on the weather like it held personal significance. The drawer stayed in the back of Nora’s mind, as though it was the only thought that occupied her mind .
“You’re quiet today,” Evelyn said between bites.
“Just tired.”
“Mmm.” Evelyn didn’t sound convinced. “You always were a terrible liar.”
Nora huffed a small laugh. “I got better.”
“At leaving,” Evelyn said lightly, then winced as if she hadn’t meant to say it that way.
Nora said nothing. Silence stretched, awkward and familiar.
Later, she escaped the house under the pretense of needing air. The harbor pulled at her, despite her reluctance. She walked the long way, giving herself time to change her mind.
She did not.
The dock was quiet, early enough that only a few fishermen were around. The water moved lazily against the wood, rhythmic and almost soothing. Nora stood at the edge, hands shoved into her pockets, staring down at the surface.
Her reflection wavered, distorted by motion.
She remembered being younger, standing in this same spot, convinced she understood how the world worked. That everything important could be named and handled and set aside when necessary.
That version of herself felt naïve now.
“Nora?”
She turned. Eli stood a few feet back, sunlight cutting across his face. He looked surprised to see her, but not unwelcome.
“I did not think you liked this place much anymore,” he said.
“I do not like it " she replied honestly. “But it keeps finding me.”
He smiled faintly. “That sounds about right.”
They leaned against the railing, side by side but not touching. The space between them felt like it was deliberate and respectful.
“Do you remember the storm?” Eli asked suddenly.
The question hit like a physical thing. Nora stiffened before she could stop herself.
“Which one?” She asked, too quickly.
Eli glanced at her. His expression shifted—just a fraction. “Never mind.”
“No,” she said, heart thudding. “I just… there were a lot of storms.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “There were.”
They stood in silence after that, the ocean filling the gaps. Nora’s thoughts churned, fragments pressing at the edges of her awareness. Cold water. Shouting. Hands slipping.
She shook her head, as if that could dislodge the images.
“You okay?” Eli asked.
“Fine.”
He did not argue, but he did not look convinced either.
When Nora returned home, the house felt different. Quieter. Heavy. She found her mother asleep and hesitated only a moment before going back to the bedroom.
The drawer.
Her hands shook slightly as she retrieved a hairpin from the bathroom. She had learned this trick as a teenager, breaking into places she was not supposed to be. It felt strange to use it now, on her own mother.
The lock gave way with a soft click.
Inside were papers. Neatly stacked. Medical records, old letters, a folded envelope with her name written in Evelyn’s careful script.
Nora’s breath caught.
She didn’t open it. Not yet.
She closed the drawer, locked it again, and sat on the bed, heart racing.
Whatever was inside wasn’t meant for her. Or maybe it was, just not yet.
Either way, the past had shifted. She could feel it.
Outside, the ocean kept moving, slow and steady.
- Writer
