MIRA

A few hours later, we head out to Jackson’s. As we arrive, Jerry leads me and Nora into the house. It’s painted white, like a psychic house. No paintings or portraits like the ones in the mansion. How is living in a place like this? No life, just silence.

“His room is just by the right.” Jerry mutters, "You two can go up to see him.”

“Dad?” Nora yells, running to him. He’s on his chair, working with his laptop on the table.

He inhales, eyes widening. A sudden wave of ...