At 3 A.M., My Brother Dragged Me Out of My Bedroom While Dad Laughed—He Had No Idea What the Smoke Detector Had Recorded
Folded the grocery bag.
The kitchen clock showed 8:40.
I knew it was really 8:36.
I’d bought the clock secondhand, and somehow it ran four minutes fast.
Just like the clock in the Kensington house.
For a while, I’d considered correcting it.
Then decided I didn’t care.
Four minutes had once bothered me during the emergency call because I couldn’t understand how an ordinary clock could remain wrong while everything around me felt dangerous.
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