, , ,

A clean cut man in a well-fitted suit waited at our door with an army of cameras.

That was the image I saw upon waking. It was a picture straight from my nightmares hanging outside my window. Hastily dressed, I ran down the stairs to my mother.

“It’s for you, they’re looking for you,” my mother was in breathy exasperation. “Some…interview.”

In the vowels of her words I sensed growing resentment of me and relation to Billy.

With a plastered on smile I tried to prepare my beating heart for the ache it was about to receive.