VOICE FROM THE PAST
I was sitting on the worn couch in my small apartment, reviewing the latest Silverline reports on my laptop, when my phone rang. The number was unfamiliar, but something in me recognized it. I answered cautiously.
“Hello?
“Evelyn, darling,” came Margaret Harrison’s warm, steady voice. “It’s Margaret. I hope I’m not disturbing you.
A wave of unexpected comfort washed over me. Margaret had always been the one person in the Harrison family who treated me like I belonged.
“Margaret,” I said softly, closing my laptop. “It’s good to hear from you.”
“I heard you left the house,” she said gently, no judgment in her tone. “I wanted to check on you. Are you safe, my dear?
I leaned back against the couch, feeling tears prick at my eyes for the first time in days. “I’m safe.
