Vonjo parked his car near the quiet little house with the crooked roof and dim lantern light swaying outside.
The night air was calm, and for a moment, it felt like he'd stepped into another world entirely—far away from the blood-red glow of his family's chaos and the suffocating weight of the Sutterfouse name.
On the porch, a tiny food stall clung to the front of the house, just the way he remembered it.
Wooden planks formed a low counter, the edges smooth from years of elbows leaning on them.
A faint smell of broth and grilled meat hung in the cool air, carried on a soft night breeze.
Vonjo cut the engine and leaned back in his seat, a small smile curling at his lips. He hadn't been here in ages.
The three-headed frog on his shoulder croaked softly, tilting its middle head curiously.
