Chapter 23

He was silent, his face constricted. A look of fondness in his youthful gaze.

“My parents died when I was ten… three years ago, actually.”

He had that look. His eyes were sparkling, and a smile was on his face. I could see it through him, the sadness buried deep within his mask of happiness. I was all too familiar with that face; in the past, I had known it as my own. That type of pain doesn’t go away. It festers and grows into something different, something morbid. It sucks you dry. You don’t feel the same afterward.

“We have something in common, then. I’ll take the chandelier.”

His excitement was infectious. I could smell it oozing from him—the sheer happiness.

“Sure, I’ll have them deliver it to the pack house.”

“Show me more?”