The car door shut, the engine started, and the black sedan disappeared into the rain like I was never there. I stood at the entrance, my dress getting soaked, the cold wind cutting straight through me. The streets were empty, rain pouring so hard it blurred everything. I waited… and waited. Forty minutes before I could even get a cab. By the time I got home, I was shaking, completely drenched, my head spinning. My forehead burned but I still forced myself to take some medicine, then I just dropped onto the bed and passed out.
Sometime in the night, my phone kept vibrating. Again and again. I heard it but I couldn’t move. My head hurt too much, my body too heavy. I just let it ring until it finally stopped.
The next morning, the fever went down a little, but my throat felt like sandpaper. I sat up slowly, took a sip of water, then reached for my phone. There were more than a dozen messages.
All from Amber.
My fingers paused… then I opened it.
The first photo hit me like a slap.
My scarf.
The soft wool scarf my grandma made was completely soaked, twisted, ruined. The texture looked wrong, clumped and stretched like it was destroyed.
More messages popped up.