Fahrenheit 451
JACKSON
March winds really did bring April showers.
The evening was rainy—weeping worse than Penelope had been earlier that night. It was the hormones.
By the time we had packed our belongings, hugged Delilah and Melanie, and gotten ready for our road-trip, Pea was a ball of confusion, barely holding her bundle of emotions—joy, sadness and anticipation—together even as we turned up hand-in-hand on the Governor’s front door in a last-minute attempt to thank her for everything that had been done right amidst the wrong.
We knew it’d be the last time we’d see the powerful Mrs. Price ever again.
On a damp front porch, in the middle of a dank and dreary night, we waited in front of her door as a chilled wind whipped shivers down our spines.
With my woman in my arms and the
