Ms. Skye?” A voice rang out. “Savanna Skye?” We each looked in the direction of the voice. A young woman was sitting in her car across the street from us, the driver door open, one leg in, one leg out. An umbrella lay across her lap.
“Yeah?” Savanna shouted back, shielding her eyes from the rain, squinting into the mist. The woman scurried out of her car and opened up her umbrella, her heeled shoes clicking their way towards us with the upmost urgency. She stopped short within a few feet of us, looking Savanna over as though she had seen a ghost.
“My God,” she murmured. “It really is you.” The woman was unfamiliar to me and, given Savanna’s confused and concerned expression, unfamiliar to her as well. Her dark eyes flickered over Savanna from head to toe, her chin-length black hair swing
