Lionel’s POV
I am not crazy.
‘I’m not,’ I think insistently.
It has been only days since Nan recovered. Things have changed between us again. But I am pleased with these changes.
It is hard to pinpoint those differences outwardly. On the surface not much has changed. Only those really looking would notice.
I have been looking. My eyes have always been drawn to Nan. But now I am refusing to fight that urge.
Nan is sitting with the girls at a smaller desk. Pieces of their homework are strown about. The girls are giggling but focused.
Her wavy brunette hair is pulled back into a singular braid. Suppressed amusement lurks beneath her patience demeaner. Seemingly the same as every afternoon these last few months.
I walk in the room and situate myself behind Nan to face the girls. “
