Three Years Later
Jess –
Opening a box of brand-new books for me is like opening a Christmas present. I cradle the spine in my hands, memorising every detail, inhaling that intoxicating new-book smell. This one looks promising, and to make it even more exciting, the author is local—she’s agreed to do a reading and signing in our store tomorrow night.
I should be buzzing with excitement. Instead, there’s always that dull ache deep inside me. Even after all this time, little things still trigger memories—songs, places, certain turns of phrase. And always him.
I hear footsteps hurrying down the back hall until Flick barrels around the corner, breathless.
“Jess, there you are—we’re going to be late!”
I smile apologetically, slide the book back into the box and lock up. Flick jingles her
