*Hattie*
It’s a quarter to midnight, and June’s humidity presses against me like a heavy blanket. The night is thick with the hum of insects, the smell of lavender in the air, and a sentiment I can’t shake. It feels like the calm before a storm. If only it were a summer rain shower on the horizon, but that’s not what I dread. It’s a battle.
Eric asked me to meet him at the cottage tonight at midnight, and it will likely be my last chance to change his mind. To beg him not to fight at Bunker Hill.
As I walk toward the cottage, the world feels suspended, as if time itself has paused. I miss my parents and my sister. I long for home.
Remembering what Aunt Ida said about lives lost in the battle sends a chill up my spine. When she told us the man who built the cottage never returned… so
