POV: Kenny

“Why does everyone look sad when I feel okay?”

I asked it quietly at first, because quiet questions feel safer, nobody answered.

Mama sat by the window with her back straight and her hands wrapped around a cup she was not drinking from. Papa stood near the doorway, arms crossed, staring at the place where the trees met the sky. Grandma Miranda had gone very still in her chair, the way she did when she was listening to things that were not in the room.

The house breathed around ...