EDEN'S POV
The word follows me home. It follows me into the elevator, into my apartment and into the silence waiting behind my front door.
By morning I still hear it, I stare at the ceiling long after sunrise trying to convince myself it meant nothing.
Children say strange things, dream, get confused. Children call teachers Mom and strangers Uncle.
I know all of that but the problem is none of those explanations help because what bothered me wasn't the word.
It was how natural it sounded, I sit up and drag both hands across my face.
Sleep never really happened.
The city is already awake outside my windows but my thoughts remain trapped in that apartment.
That bedroom that moment Jack sleeping peacefully while his arms remained wrapped around my neck then *Dad.*
The memory refuses
