By midmorning, it was loud in all the usual ways: cabinets closing, footsteps on tile, the distant sound of Fred outside working around the barn. Life kept moving like it hadn’t noticed anything different. Madden and Poppi were the only ones moving like they were underwater. They avoided each other on instinct now. Not a conscious decision anymore, just a reflex. If Poppi heard Madden in the kitchen, she turned down the hall. If Madden heard her voice in the laundry room, he stayed put until it faded. But avoidance didn’t erase awareness. It sharpened it. Everywhere he went, Madden felt her presence like a second shadow, her laugh from earlier conversations replaying in fragments, the memory of her voice too close, too soft, too everything. He kept telling himself the same thing he’d been repeating since he woke up: It was a mistake. Except the word didn’t sit right. It scraped. Across the house, Poppi was doing the same math in reverse. She kept busy on purpose, foldi
Última actualización : 2026-10-13
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