The morning sun barely pierced the curtains, casting a gentle, diffused light across the room. I stood in front of my closet, the smell of my vintage dresses still lingering in the air. The funeral of Timothy's mother was only a few hours away, and I needed to find an outfit suitable for the occasion.
My fingers trailed across the fabric of black dresses, each one holding its own memories. As I contemplated my choices, a knock at the door startled me. It was too early for visitors, and I wasn't expecting anyone. I glanced at the clock, wondering who it could be at this hour.
I quickly crossed the room and opened the door, expecting to see a neighbor or perhaps even Timothy on the other side. But instead, I found Stella standing on my doorstep, a cold, uninviting expression on her face. M
