AFTER
AFTERLife often has a funny way of leading you around to where it wants you to be, at least that’s what I’ve come to find. Speaking of finding things, I know I shouldn’t be here. It was a risky move, coming, but at the same time—a promise is a promise. I said I’d take care of this, and I’m determined to hold up my end of the deal. Still, that doesn’t mean I have to like it.
Get in. Get out. I repeat this to myself over and over, step by step, until I reach the front porch. When my foot hits the first stair, I pause and glance backward over my shoulder. I just need a moment. The sun is bright today, but the sun is deceptive. It isn’t warm; there’s a chill in the air, and it’s the kind that stings when it hits my skin. The wind whips my hair, covering my face; it has little concern f
