Chapter 103

• PENELOPE
• Morning came like an apology. Weak, pale light spilled into the living room, I hadn’t slept well. Or at all. My dreams were haunted by the scene of the bakery on fire.
• Jess and I were still camped on the couch, swaddled in blankets like they were armor, though they did little to shield us from the ache spreading slowly beneath our skin. Neither of us had spoken much, and when we did, it was only in whispers, as if anything louder might shatter what was left of us.