Chapter 43

I stood inside of my old house, years before we had ever decided to leave. It was a year after my Dad had died, making me nine years old. The deep navy sofa was still old and lumpy, but newer than I remembered seeing it. There were no lipstick stains from Alyssa and I, or small tears from the time I brought a stray kitten home. My nine-year-old self sat on the couch, bare toes almost reaching the floor. I had a bowl of popcorn in my hands, smiling at the television as some colorful movie played. Dim light from the moon peered through the sheer curtains in the living room. While I recognized this as one of mine and Mom's frequent movie nights, I had no recollection of this particular memory.

Mom came downstairs, and my breath hitched as I ran my eyes over her smiling face. She was so close, close enough to touch and yet I couldn't bring myself to move. I traced every line and curve with my eyes, committing her face to memory. Her kind eyes and wide smile, the way she'd always