Chapter 18 The Things We Carry

• The apartment smelled faintly of vanilla and fresh linen when Elena stepped inside. The soft swishing of a mop echoed from down the hallway, along with the clink of dishes being stacked in the kitchen.
• It was quiet. Peaceful. Too peaceful.
• “Welcome home, Miss Ramirez,” Rosa called from the kitchen. The older woman appeared a moment later, drying her hands on a towel, her warm eyes scanning Elena’s pale face. “You look tired.”