The 23 Mark II: First Outing PI
I open my eyes and gaze at the ceiling, waiting for my mind to slowly reconnect the dots. This isn’t the colour I’m used to—or the light or the smells. There’s a crucifix over the door, a century’s worth of cracks and stains.
We’re not home.
We are finally NOT home.
It’s a short one, just a two-nighter, amidst familiar surroundings. This house our kids know as well as their own. It means the world, though. Freedom, between a forest and the windswept fields.
