Is this our new family? Two dead bodies, one mad sister, and two mentally-incapable males delayed beyond their physical years? I asked myself. Trying my damndest to avoid the sight of putrefied relatives, I entered the shack. “Ewan!” I called. “Ewan! Are you…here?” I received no response.
Perhaps you are back at the house. I will check there. I will find you. If I spoke to him, I figured, even in just this way, he might sense me and hold on.
I decided I would check in the cellar back home, the home I’d wondered recently if I’d ever see again or if I even wanted to. That seemed the most likely hiding spot in my head at that moment. Do not ask me why. It just did. The shack did not have many hiding spots for one thing. It seemed to be one large room, with a curtain for a closet door Ewan w
