Chapter 92 3 Am And A Phone He Didn't Answer

• Christian
• The nursery was the only room in the house that still smelled like them.
• I don't know how that was possible after only two days. Maybe it wasn't. Maybe I was manufacturing it, the way grieving people manufacture the presence of the thing they've lost in every sensory detail available to them. But I sat in the rocking chair at three in the morning, and I could have sworn the room still held them. Baby powder and something warm and the particular sweetness that belonged to children who had just had a bath and been put into clean pajamas and kissed on the forehead by their mother.