Devon brought me to his room.
It was smaller than what Kate and I shared.
It had one window, one shelf, a narrow bed pushed against the far wall. But what struck me first wasn't the size. It was how still everything was.
The books on the shelf were arranged spine-out, perfectly level, like no one had pulled one in a while. The bedside table held a single cup, handle turned exactly parallel to the edge. Nothing was out of place. It didn't feel lived in. Rather, it felt like a space waiting to be used, not one that was.
That struck me as odd.
"The General thought it best to keep me away from the others," Devon said, closing the door behind us.
I hummed absentmindedly, "I assumed so," I said. I moved toward the shelf, trailing my finger along the spines. The titles were worn at the edges, these had been read, many times. "You seem to enjoy reading."
"It's all I can do when I'm not needed."
