The morning mountain air was cool, carrying the faint scent of pine and damp earth from last night’s rain. I sat cross-legged on the wicker chair on the elevated back porch. My hands are wrapped around my mug while I absently spin it in slow circles in my palms. I’m in sweat pants and a sweater. The porch was quiet with the exception to the occasional distant call of a bird. Until the rumble of the motorcycle engine coming down the estate drive. It’s awful early for a morning drive. I glance at the time on my phone… 5:45 am… I really need to get some better sleep and stop waking up so early.
I hear the motorcycle’s wheels crunch on the gravel as it approaches the main entrance of the estate. And its engine is cut off. Soon I heard the footsteps on the stairs behind me. When the boards lig
