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114

The windows overlooking the center flickered the afternoon sun into the room, reflecting on some photographs that decorated the table.

"Jon has not yet removed all the belongings," I grumbled, laying each of the picture frames that were on the table so that he did not see any photos.

"I'm going to ask his assistant to take care of it immediately," Anthony warned, promptly standing up.

I didn't really like the feeling of kicking out Jon, but it wasn't comfortable looking at images from the past and not remembering my own past. There was a stain that I preferred to hide, since I could not clean it completely, and I avoided with dedication every trigger that could awaken it.

"He looked so beautiful in this photo," sighed Penelope, nostalgic.

"I know he's your father, Pen, but I really doubt that one day he was really beautiful," I played, settling in the huge chair. It was uncomfortable for my size, almost as if I were going to swallow myself if I stayed in the same position for too long
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