KENNEDY
"SO, do you have any questions?" he said, finally breaking the defeaning silence. We were still in the parking lot of Belle Âme, sitting inside his car.
"I-I'm not really sure what to say. I don't know where to start," I replied. It feels like information overload. I have a lot of questions, but I don't know how to say it.
"You can ask anything, Kennedy. I'll answer everything that you want to know."
I looked at him, trying to figure out what's going on inside his mind. But Mr. Beaufort was like a blank canvass. You really can't tell what's on it, not unless you started stroking your brush against it until it finally reveals the message that it wants to convey.
I took a deep breath and started gathering my thoughts. I need to ask these questions if I want to go on with this a
