"Is Grace—" I began, and the rest of the question fell away under the weight of the moment.
For the first time, I noticed the names on the spines of the boxes stacked along the wall—short strings, three-letter tags: GRG, HRT, BND. Someone had cataloged these pieces, not by owner but by feeling: regret, lullaby, farewell. grg script pastebin work
"You were awake," she said simply. "And awake is a rare thing." She paused. "Also: you stayed." "Is Grace—" I began, and the rest of