“Sorry,” Lukas whispered.
Click.
“I love you,” she said. “Both of you.” goodnight mommy 1
She sat across from them, eating soup with small, precise movements. The spoon clicked against her teeth each time—too loud, too regular. A metronome counting down to something. “Sorry,” Lukas whispered
And the way she said it—like a line from a script she’d found in the attic—made Lukas think of the barn. Of the jars of water in the cellar. Of the way she’d stopped using their names. eating soup with small