Julia
The sun streamed between the tall buildings as we walked south on Rush Street, my hand in Van's. The sidewalks were something I adored about Chicago. My picture had recently been on multiple news outlets. Donovan Sherman was a well-known businessman, and amongst the crowds of people we could be ourselves. People passed by completely lost in their own bubbles, unaware or uncaring of who was with them. There was a tranquilness in anonymity. For a few minutes among a crowd, we could simply be.
“I was wrong," I said as we passed Connors Park.
Van's cheeks had pinkened in the cool air. He turned to me, his green gaze drinking me in. “Tell me how you could be wrong."
“You told me this morning not to let Chicago bother me. I was. You knew that better than I did. And I was wrong." I li
