Chapter 143: Reaching Out To Miss Peterson
Sedona's POV
The light came in the same way it always had, through the open window, filtered by the white curtains casting a warm golden glow on my bed, table and other things in the room.
That was the thing about childhood bedrooms—the light didn't change. Whatever else shifted across the years, what else one went through either in a good way or a bad way, the morning light in your childhood bedroom came in at the same angle it had always come in, hit the same wall, made the same shape.
. I'd been watching this particular rectangle of light since I was seven years old, had watched it from positions of happiness and misery and boredom and terror and now from the position of someone who'd come back from something and was trying to understand
