Overnight

The house is silent, the only sound the rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock in the foyer and the low, distant hum of the central air. You drift away from Tyler’s glowing screens, passing through the floorboards and into Kenzie’s room.

Unlike the others, her room feels soft. There are no mirrors aimed at the bed, no high-tech rigs. Just the scent of linseed oil, charcoal, and the fresh, piney smell of the new dresser. Kenzie is curled on her side, her breathing deep and even, her sketchbook tucked under her pillow as if she’s afraid someone might take her ideas while she sleeps.