Has it always been this hard to walk?
The grass was soft, and my shoes were comfortable, but still, it was hard for me to take one step after another. It feels like I'm a newborn learning to walk all over again.
"Please excuse us, we don't have as many hands to help us tidy the house now," the man, whose name I later learned was John, said. He was my father's butler, someone I'd never met before. He was never around when my father called for me.
"We don't mind," Luke said, "we have seen much worse."
Though I haven't been outside much, I could see that the garden was much different than how it used to be. It had always been green, even from my attic room, but now, the green was all dead, scattered all over the ground. The colorful flowers were looking down, their colors now nowhere to be seen. The once-beautiful pond was now filled with dead fish, floating like paper on the water.
What on earth happened after I left?
