The next morning started the way most mornings did now—me walking into the mansion with a sigh, tying my hair up, preparing myself for whatever mood Mr Nicholas Knight was in today.
Sometimes I felt like I needed a weather app just for him. Sunny? Never. Cloudy? Always. Storm incoming? Most days.
I reached the foyer and slipped off my shoes, switching into the indoor pair like the rulebook demanded. Half the rules still made me want to scream, but I followed them. Mostly. Fine—only because Ms Cora stressed her soul into the words, "Emma, don't poke the lion."
I put my bag down and immediately started dusting the staircase railing, humming a song Daniel showed me yesterday, something slow and calming. He had his open mic tonight, and I promised I'd come.
He seemed genuinely excited about it and kept saying things like "I'll try my best not to butcher the guitar this time" and "Just be prepared to lie when I ask if I did well." His softness was becoming almost familiar now.
