Over the weekend Briar had tidied the clothes she’d left behind, putting them back into her drawers so it would be neat when she returned. He’d realized all the clothing she’d left had been gifts from one of us. She’d taken nothing we had given her, leaving any favorites if it was something from our hands. Desolation seeped through me, and I sank into a leather armchair, unable to look away from where the intricate artwork lay.
