Chapter 41

• Everyone leaving the room at once causes mayhem in this narrow hallway, and I can’t tell which way we’re even moving as we’re crammed among so many. It’s like ants evacuating a collapsing den via the only escape route. It’s claustrophobic.
• “Yeah, I think we used to play in the same places as children,” I answer distractedly, avoiding collision with oncoming traffic, trying to be polite. Still, I’m too busy side-stepping large males pushing by and trying not to get trampled underfoot.
• “We did. I remember you. You had a brother, Jasper, about my age.” Hearing his name coming from someone else’s mouth sucker punches me unexpectedly, and I have to bite my lip to stop the sudden inhale from the slice of pain it inflicts. Even after all these years, I’ve never really fully mourned their loss. I try never to think of them and push them down whenever one surfaces.