Chapter 68: Memories

LEO

I'd known Quinn since she'd slept in a toddler bed. I remembered her canopy bed with the pink ruffled bedspread, and I remembered when her walls had been covered with posters of boy bands. But at first glimpse, her college room struck me as the most quintessentially Quinn room yet.

Her bed was made up with some kind of fluffy white comforter covered with a patchwork quilt I recognized from her bedroom at home. On the wall over the bed was a large framed poster of the sun coming up over the ocean, a shot I was pretty sure she'd taken herself. Several pictures sat on the top of her dresser, including one of her father, one of me from the summer before college, and one of the three of us: Nate, Quinn and me. Off to the side sat a small wooden box, a little worn-looking where some of the varnish had rubbed off.

I knew deep down I should respect her privacy and leave it alone, but still, I flipped open the lid and examined the contents. I couldn't explain why, exactly, but over the