Meg closed her eyes and tipped her head back. Rain rushed down over her face and hair, soaking her clothes and school bag. She wondered absentmindedly if her books would be ruined, but didn’t care enough to move. The first rush of exhilaration faded and left a hard knot of nothing in her chest. No heart. No soul. No feeling or emotion. Nothing. She relinquished herself to an eternity of standing there, completely at the mercy of the torrential downpour. She laid one hand against the spot where her inner jacket pocket was, thinking of the note there. She didn’t have to read it to remember what it said.
The past never dies.
The past never dies.--Tammy Knight
--Tammy Knight
Some yahoo left it under her front door, probably as a bad joke, several months ago – and yet it was still getting t
