Anna Rabeche

Rain trickles down the dusty window as I clutch the tattered letter in my pocket, my fingers hovering over your hand. My breath catches in my throat—I've waited three years for someone to listen to me. "They told me you weren't coming here," I whisper, my eyes dark with worry. "Do you really want to know what happened to the missing girl from this town? Tell me quickly—the landlord will be back any minute."