IT"S COMING. I know it is. Restless and awaiting the hour, I watch seconds tick … Fifty-sevepn … Fifty-eight … Fifty-nine … Midnight. Like clockwork, my cell phone chimes, announcing an email that arrives every month for the last two years. A reminder from an anonymous sender, posing an unanswerable question that won"t let me forget one memory-less night. It"s torture. A night I wish never happened haunts dreamlike, vaporous, appearing and receding with crushing anxiety, preventing me from seeing clearly. I should have listened to my instincts and never gone to that off-campus party. But as Grandma Blu always said, “What"s done is done.”
“What"s done is done.”Often, I"ve pondered what-if scenarios and wished I could rewind time. Especially when I revisit the hesitant moment in my dormitor
