I walk past Luke, Pam stepping into place behind me and presumably Luke behind her. We leave the kitchen and our moms' high-pitched voices behind in favour of the staircase, its soft carpet muting our steps as we head up to the second floor.

The first room at the top of the stairs is Mom's and Dad's, just off to the left.

I slowly close the door and point to it, making room for Pam and Luke to step up next to me. "This is Mom and Dad's room, which we probably aren't supposed to include on our tour."

Luke nods. "Ah. VIP access required, right?"

I chuckle. "Something like that." I turn one inch to the left and point to the door behind Luke. "This is Pam's room, which might be VIP access as well...?"

Pam wrinkles her nose. "Well, I guess we can go in—I just cleaned it."

"Okay, cool." I wave Pam on ahead and follow her and Luke into her bedroom. Pam's room is funky like Pam is—she has an accent wall (it took a couple months for her to wear Mom and Dad down to the point where they let her paint it) that's pink and three walls that are light purple. Her double bed has been pushed up against the wall that backs onto Mom and Dad's closet. The opposite wall leads to her luxurious walk-in closet, another wall contains a window with a view of Almira's house, and the inside wall houses her desk and dresser. The accessories are all brightly coloured items, such as rainbow-coloured notebooks and scarves. Our family loves scarves.

Luke's head is turning as he gazes around the room, his feet rooted to the ground. I wonder if it feels weird for him to be in a girl's room, let alone a room belonging to a complete stranger. He takes his time looking around, making me think he's actually quite comfortable and genuinely interested. "It's very colourful," he concludes. "And I like the accent wall."

Pam lights up. "Thanks. I painted it myself."

"And the art on the walls too. Where are these from?"

"Pam painted those herself," I rush to answer, proud of my sister.

Luke's eyes widen. "Wow. They're really nice. You could be a painter. Professionally."

Pam's still smiling. "Thanks! Wait till you see Caitlin's sketches."

Now one of Luke's feet is uprooted as he turns towards me. "Oh, you draw?"

I shrug. "I guess creativity runs in the family. We just inherited the visual arts component of the gene."

"I am so bad at drawing," Luke reveals as I lead them down the hall to the washroom. "Maybe only slightly better than I was at the age of five."

I face Luke and Pam, pushing open the bathroom door behind me. "Then remind me not to be on your team if we ever play Pictionary."

Luke's eyes twinkle. "Fair enough." He steps into the bathroom, which is long and contains a sink and a toilet facing a tub-shower combination. "This is a nice washroom. Recently renovated?"

Pam looks surprised. "You can tell?"

I am too. "Yeah, our parents did it a few months ago. It was sort of a gift to Pam and I. Two girls and a bathroom...I'll leave it at that." And I almost wish I hadn't said it at all; I hope Luke's intuition isn't helping him imagine what a messy, rundown bathroom this was before the renovation.

I spot a toilet paper roll on the counter and realize Pam has once again removed it from the toilet paper holder, one of my pet peeves. And I think I see a toilet paper roll in the garbage can, when she knows full well I recycle those. I brush off the agitation, knowing I'll rectify the situation later.

"And now onto my room."

The bathroom and Pam's room run along one wall of the house. Mom and Dad's room covers the backyard-facing wall. We are now passing the row of windows that overlook our street, and arrive at the single doorway embedded in the fourth wall.

My door is already open, so I step into my room and position myself between the mirror on my dresser and the doorway. "Ta-da."

Luke steps inside, looking curious. I try to see my room with fresh eyes, as he does: the dresser between where my door sticks out and my closet door. The rug tucked in between the entryway and my four-poster bed with sheer pink curtains facing my window. My bookcase on the other side, a few feet from my desk.

Luke walks past my bed to the bookcase. "Wow. I've never seen so many books outside of a library."

I hurry over to my desk and tidy up one of the piles of books that doesn't fit on my shelves. I usually keep it on the floor next to them, but wanted to tidy up in case Luke or his mom slept in here.

Pam plops onto my bed. There's something about my room that just invites her and my friends—and even her friends—to come on in and take a seat. "Caitlin loves reading like it's nobody's business."

"And you like pink," Luke realizes. Everything in my room is pink—pale pink walls, sheer pink curtains surrounding my bed covered in pink blankets. The rug next to my bed is pink, too – it always brought out Kitty's cute pink nose in photos.

Luke stops at my dresser and points. "You guys have a cat? He or she looks so cute."

I don't know which photo he's looking at, but almost all of them have Kitty in them and she always looks cute.

Pam looks at me, panicked, and I stare back at her. "Uh, yeah, she passed away last week."

I swear I kept my voice steady, but now I don't feel so sure.

Luke freezes, then straightens and looks at me and then Pam. "I am so sorry."

Pam looks down at the floor. "Thank you."

Luke shakes his head. "I really am. I know how much she must mean to you. Pets are family."

My heart tingles, filling with warmth. "Yeah, she is. Thank you. For saying that."

Luke nods, holding my gaze. I don't have to look left or right to remember what it was like to walk into my room and see Kitty run on ahead of me, and curl up on the carpet to play, or jump onto the bed and immediately turn around so she could see me and be petted. How she sat in the doorway waiting for me to stand by the bed, pat my leg and invite her in.

We honestly went everywhere together, and suddenly I want to cry because Kitty is not right here next to me, and the best I can do is revisit our photos and memories together, and look into the eyes of this stranger and find some version of comfort in the fact that other people get this love Kitty and I will always, always have.

My throat is incredibly tight, and I am super tempted to give in and cry, because only that will provide any form of release and relief. But I force myself to swallow, notice Luke is still holding my gaze, like a gentle hug he'll let me choose to end when I want to, and I blink, turning to look at Pam. Her eyes are slightly moist, and for a moment my throat and eyes start to act up again, but I walk over to her instead and stand next to her, gearing up my voice.

Pam finds it first. "Do you guys have animals on your farm?" she asks.

Luke clears his throat, and for a moment I wonder if he somehow felt emotion for a beautiful cat he didn't meet. "We don't have an animal farm, but we do see a lot of animals. You could say we get visitors."

"What kinds?"

Pam leads us out of my room as she says this, and I know she's carrying on the conversation for my sake. I look back at our room, imagine Kitty on the bed, and close my eyes, holding onto that mental picture before I turn and follow Pam and Luke down the stairs.