I went inside and sat on the edge of the bed.

A sweater lay over the desk chair.

A half-finished puzzle covered one corner of her dresser.

On the bookshelf, a framed picture showed her at twelve holding a stray puppy she’d tried to persuade us to adopt.

“Did you ever feel afraid she’d think you didn’t belong?” I asked.

Kenneth leaned against the doorframe.

“Every once in a while.”

“Why?”