Chapter 36 - Packing the Boxes
Late August brought the inevitable, bittersweet task of packing.
Sophie’s room was a chaotic mess of cardboard boxes, bubble wrap, and clothes scattered across the bed.
Richard stood in the doorway, holding a roll of packing tape, feeling a heavy, nostalgic ache in his chest.
"Do I really need to take all these winter coats?"
Sophie groaned, trying to force a massive puffer jacket into a small box.
"New York winters are brutal, Soph. Take the coat,"
Richard smiled, walking in to help her tape the box shut.
As they cleared off her desk, Richard picked up a small, simple wooden frame. Inside was a piece of aged, slightly crumpled paper.
It was the drawing she had hidden above her wardrobe years ago. The tiny girl standing alone inside a dark square room, with the shaky block letters: I wish Mommy would come back.
"You're taking this?"
Richard asked softly.
Sophie stopped packing, looking at the frame in his hands.
"I am,"
May you like
Sophie nodded, her expression peaceful and resolute.
"I want it on my desk in my dorm room. So that every time I think an exam is too hard, or an audition is too scary, I can look at it and remember exactly what I survived."
