My mother refused to talk about the photograph.
For three days.
Every time I mentioned it, she found something else to do.
Breakfast.
Laundry.
Work.
Sleep.
Anything.
By Thursday, I gave up asking.
Not because I wasn't curious.
Because I knew my mother.
When she didn't want to answer something, pushing only made her build a bigger wall.
So I waited.
And watched.
She seemed nervous.
That was new.
My mother had always been calm.
Even when things went wrong, she had a way of making everything seem manageable.
But lately...
she kept looking toward the windows.
Toward the forest.
Toward me.
As though she was waiting for something.
---
At school, things were changing too.
Not dramatically.
Just enough to notice.
People had started watching me.
Not everyone.
But enough
