I enter the house, plop onto the bed, and waste some time looking at stuff on my phone. I stare up at the ceiling and the whirring fan. Then I close my eyes, and the silly tears slip down my face. I cannot conjure up any happy thoughts.
I flip over and face the wall. Prom night surfaces again. I turn and face the clock, watching until the red lights blink another passing minute.
I sit up. I cannot do this anymore—I don’t want to feel caged in by my thoughts.
I need air.
And space.
I open the door slowly. No trace of Courtney. I slip through the family room and take short walk to the beach. I turn left, not wanting to pass by a certain house.
The clouds open again, releasing a spray of rain. The soft rain feels refreshing on a hot August afternoon. I walk slowly, alone in my thoughts. Sad moments play in my head, starting with Ryan then stopping on the worst scene of my life—on that one afternoon that changed everything.
My thoughts remain there, that terrible day at the end of my sophomore year. Yes, even worse than Friday.