Breaking free from a conversation that was empty words anyway, Jennifer Nile folded her arms and wandered along the side of the hollow home. Let the men talk, she’d look upon the trees bordering the backyard. She might even brave what waited beyond.
The rusted swing set … had it ever held swings? Instead, there were the dangling chains hoping to snare a victim. Best to not even touch the mist settling as teardrops on the tarnished metal.
Memories whispered, but she wouldn’t succumb to the home’s scorn.
She wouldn’t, not when the distasteful deeds were finally done. The childhood home was on the market, the time at the cemetery was in the past, and the past was in the cemetery.
Most of the past. Not all.
Autumn’s first storm tapped on the browning leaves with drizzle. Did each drop shiver in fear before plummeting?
She shivered and twisted around.
No sign of Paul. Talking to the realtor while the man put up his sign, no doubt.
Still in black, but thankfully black flats, she faced the wood. The old path was still there. Often deer used it, but perhaps so too did neighborhood children. Digging in her purse, she extracted a tie and cinched her dark, wavy locks into a ponytail.
It wasn’t far to where she’d encountered him and even the path urged revisiting…
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