But that day, Timothea came home early and leaned against the doorway, watching Harper clean out his closet.
As she watched, her expression changed.
“How do you know how to tie a bow like that?”
Timothea rushed over and grabbed the tie tightly, his hands shaking uncontrollably.
In his memory, only one person could do that: me, Bond.
Back in our humble rental apartment, I always used this method to amuse Timothea. Even the string used to tie the cake had to be tied with this kind of bow.
Timothea’s eyes flushed and she gripped Harper’s shoulders firmly.
“Tell me the truth, what’s your relationship with Bond? Where is he?”
Harper shook his head in confusion and fear.
“Ms. Johnston, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I learned how to tie a bow online.”
Timothea was completely unwilling to accept this.
Her intuition told her that Harper must be connected to Bond, but she hadn’t found out what that relationship was.
Timothea stared at the man in front of her.
It was as if she could see through his face to the person behind him.
I floated in midair, a mixture of emotions.
Harper and I looked about 50% similar, but there were some differences in our gestures.