carry me away.
Just before boarding, one message stopped me.
“Mom, what did you do? There’s a woman from the court at the door saying the house isn’t ours anymore.”
I looked toward the ocean and smiled.
Then Austin sent a photograph.
He stood pale in my living room, clutching my note.
Behind him, on the table, was the second folder I had deliberately left with his name on it.
I hadn’t hidden it.
That was intentional.
I placed it beside Ernest’s memorial photograph, exactly where Chloe had dropped those
