Penny's POV
The next day, the living room smells like cardboard and lemon cleaner. Dad brought in moving boxes from the garage after breakfast, and seeing them spread across the rug makes everything feel more real than it did yesterday.
Nick mutters something about "funeral vibes" under his breath as he folds one of the boxes flat, making Savannah and Jess laugh.
I sit on the arm of the couch with my knees pulled close, watching my parents start sorting books from the shelves. Mom's hands linger on each one, her thumb brushing the cover as if she's saying goodbye before packing them into the box.
"Maybe we should start with the attic," Dad says. "That's where the bulk of it is."
"The attic?" Jess's eyes widen. "Pretty sure that's where raccoons go to die. Hard pass."
"Drama queen," Nick mutters.
Savannah pushes off the wall and takes a box from the pile. "I'll help. Might as well get this thing moving."
I notice how her fingers grip the cardboard a little too tightly.
