MIRIAM
I hunched over the scarred wooden desk in my cramped office behind the café. The hardcover notebook was opened in front of me. My pen scratched across the page:
‘Excessive heat. Heightened arousal. Day-one symptoms mimicking day-three.’
I underlined it twice, then flipped back through the cycles. Last month: mild fever along with manageable cravings. The month before: barely noticeable. But this? This was a wildfire.
What changed? The question gnawed at me. Maya had promised to tell me everything about Ashbourne, but she’d clammed up tighter than a vault. I have to know what happened. What are you hiding, Maya?
A knock rattled the door. I slammed the notebook shut. Sarah’s head poked in, “Mrs. Grayson? Someone’s asking for you at the counter.”
I put the notebook in the drawer
