Chapter 13The setting sun gently smoldered in a sky of scintillatingly sweet pink and purple, like a dying ember slowly smoking out before the oncoming night. Lazy wisps of clouds, gleaming of burnished silver in the flushed flow of that fiery sphere's rays, streamed overhead. The air seemed to breathe with a quiet peace, one which I sensed in the silent thrum of my heart.
As I swung higher and higher.
When I was younger and in times of trouble, I would come to my neighborhood playground, settle into one of the rusty old swings that appeared as though they might collapse any second, and sway. Sometimes I would swing for a few minutes, sometimes I would swing for hours. One time, the day after Suzanna died, I had blindly wandered over here, plopped onto my designated seat, and swung up an
