I glanced toward Diane and Paul’s house through the window. “At their house?”
He nodded.
“I want to know what he liked.”
So the next morning, Diane led us upstairs to Noah’s old bedroom.
She had changed almost nothing.
Not in a shrine-like way. It did not feel frozen or haunted. It felt gently preserved, like a room waiting for the right person to open a drawer.
There were books on the shelf, a faded baseball cap hanging from the bedpost, a guitar in the corner, and glow-in-the-dark stars still scattered across the ceiling.
Leo stood in the middle of the room and looked up.
“He liked space?”
“He loved space,” Paul said from the doorway. “He wanted to be an engineer.”
Leo turned sharply. “I like engineering.”
Paul smiled. “I heard.”
Diane opened a desk drawer and pulled out a notebook.
“Noah kept sketches,” she said.
She handed it to Leo.
