"The laughter of children lingers, even as footsteps close in from unseen corners"
—Ava Carter Reed
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Ava's Point of View
The ride back from St Willows was quieter than I'd expected.
For all of Dylan's dramatic entrance at the playground — sliding his arm around my waist like he had every right — he hadn't said more than three words since we got in the car.
The tinted window on my side framed the city as it blurred by: warm pools of lamplight on damp asphalt, street vendors packing up for the night, the occasional billboard flashing a luxury perfume ad. I let my forehead rest lightly against the glass, the hum of the engine beneath us strangely comforting.
I still felt the ghost of his hand at my waist. It shouldn't have lingered this long.
Andre, Ana and Avie sat at the back seat, all asleep.
"Did you usually go to the orphanage before all… this?"
