6
Sophie stood on the far side of Ephraim’s open bedroom, watching him sleep. He seemed to be deeply unconscious, not anywhere close to waking. She sucked in a quiet breath and looked around, knowing that if she was ever going to explore, this was the time.
She found several surprising things in her search. A room full of gilded treasure, something straight out of a Tolkien description of a dragon’s hoard. A room of carefully preserved garments seemingly chronologically arranged, presumably Ephraim’s own clothes through the ages. A windowless room with black walls and thousands of photographs, a timeline of Ephraim’s life, his face appearing in the photos again and again in different scenes.
She had the distinct feeling that she was trespassing when she saw some of the more private mome
