Ava
Chris and I prepared dinner in the kitchen, the sound of Fabian and Betty’s laughter floating in from the parlor. Despite the warm and cozy atmosphere, I still couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that had settled over me since our encounter with the fortune teller.
The way she had looked at me, as if she could see right through me, kept replaying in my mind on a loop. And the fog, still solidly pushed up against the windows and oppressing as ever, didn’t help any.
“Ava, can you pass me the salt?”
The sound of Chris’s voice broke through my thoughts, and I blinked, realizing I had been staring blankly at the vegetables I was supposed to be chopping. “Oh, sorry. Here you go.”
Chris raised an eyebrow as he took the salt shaker. “Are you okay? You seem a bit distracted.
