A LIGHT TAPPING IS what wakes me up. I open my swollen eyes and realize I'm still in my car, curled up in the driver's seat with one of the blankets I keep in the backseat—in case of an emergency—slung around my shoulders. It's very early in the morning, I'd say around six or seven, there is a little sunlight beginning to stream through what was once a dark sky and I can feel that it is very cool. Not exactly cold but cool enough that not wearing a jacket would be idiotic.
I must have fallen asleep in my car after crying.
The light tapping continues and I direct my swollen eyes to follow the source of where the sound is coming from. Sinclair is standing there, tapping on the window of my car. When our eyes meet and he really sees me—eyes rimmed red and probably looking completely unprese
