The camera sat there, perched on the heavy, antique dresser like it belonged — yet out of place all the same.
Joanne's eyes softened. The position... It was exactly the same as how he used to leave it on her dresser back home. Neat. Reverent. Like the camera itself was something precious.
Before she realized it, her fingers were already tracing its familiar curves.
Her lips curved too, almost involuntarily, picturing Jeffrey wandering through the Winchester Estate, the camera swinging from his neck as he tried to capture the world through a lens few could see through but him.
But then the weight of memory hit her too hard.
Realizing what she was doing, Joanne yanked her hand back as if the metal burned her skin. She stepped back sharply, heart pounding.
Through the corner of her eye, she thought she saw a shadow flicker by the door.
She turned quickly, stepping toward it.
The hallway outside was empty. Silent.
"Sebastian…?" she called out softly.
No answer.
