The day I left the hospital, the sky was clear.
That felt strange.
For days everything had been gray and heavy, like the world itself had been grieving. But now the sun was out, bright and warm, like nothing had happened.
I sat in the back seat of the black car Mrs. Walter had sent for me.
The driver didn’t talk much. He had introduced himself as Thomas and then spent most of the drive focused on the road.
Which was fine with me.
I wasn’t in the mood to talk either.
The town moved past the window slowly.
Familiar places slid by one after another.
The grocery store my mom liked because the owner always saved fresh flowers for her.
The park where my dad used to jog on Saturday mornings.
The small diner where we sometimes ate breakfast after church.
Each place felt different now.
