The brief spark of happiness they carried with them dissolved the moment their eyes swept across the kitchen.
Popcorn littered the marble floor like scattered snow, some crushed beneath careless footsteps, others clinging stubbornly to the corners of the room. A pot lay abandoned on the counter, its lid tilted at an awkward angle, while utensils were strewn everywhere—as if someone had cooked in a frenzy and left without a second glance. Every cabinet stood open, doors hanging wide in silent confession, exposing neatly arranged shelves that had clearly been rummaged through.
The kitchen looked violated. Chaotic. Wrong.
Kyle stopped walking.
