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People are allowed to change, he thought, less like a belief he agreed with and more like an argument he was desperately trying to make to the jury of himself.
As they walked deeper into the woods, the trees seemed to grow taller, the understory thicker. The air was cold and damp now—humid, like in a rainforest. There came with it an almost narcotic effect. Lulling. Hypnotizing.
His father was fire, his mother was gasoline,
The staircase didn’t belong here. It didn’t belong in a way that went far deeper than just a staircase shouldn’t be out in the woods. This felt like something weirder, something worse. Like this staircase did not belong here in the world at all.
Home is where the hurt is.
