Page 48
Story: Cyclone
It was time to close the chapter.
And maybe, it was time to start writing a new one.
The house was almostempty now.
Just a few boxes stacked by the door.
Just a few last ghosts clinging to the walls.
I stood in the center of the living room, holding the framed photo in my hands — the one of Tyler swinging Callie around in the backyard, both laughing so hard you could almost hear it when you looked at the picture.
I pressed the frame to my chest, squeezing my eyes shut. I have cried so much since I came here. I couldn’t cry anymore.
“I’m sorry I left,” I whispered, my voice breaking. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. I’m sorry.”
A tear slid down my cheek.
“I never stopped loving you. And I never will.”
The house creaked in the wind as if breathing one last time.
I carefully set the frame in the box marked “Keep” and looked around the room one more time.
“I’m going to be okay,” I said aloud, forcing the words into the air, into the bones of this house that had held so much love and loss.
“I promise.”
I turned toward the door but stopped when my gaze caught on the kitchen table, the one where Tyler used to drink his coffee and where Lacey used to color with crayons, scattered everywhere. I walked into the kitchen and took her drawings from the fridge. I would frame them and hang them in my next kitchen.
I smiled through the ache, brushing my fingers lightly over the worn wood.
“Thank you,” I said softly.
“For every single moment.” With a final breath, I closed the door behind me.
I locked it and tucked the key into my pocket, not because I needed it anymore but because it was a piece of my old life I wasn’t ready to let go of completely.
As I walked to my truck, the first stars began to blink into the sky.
And somewhere deep inside me, past the wreckage, past the pain, a tiny spark of something new flickered to life.
Hope.
I slid into the driver’s seat, gripping the steering wheel.
A text lit up on my phone, waiting for me.
From Cyclone.
You don’t have to do this alone.
I’m here whenever you’re ready.
I stared at the screen, a tear slipping free.
Then I smiled a genuine, shaky, broken smile and started the engine.
It was time to go.
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 44
- Page 45
- Page 46
- Page 47
- Page 48 (Reading here)
- Page 49
- Page 50
- Page 51
- Page 52
- Page 53
- Page 54
- Page 55
- Page 56
- Page 57
- Page 58
- Page 59
- Page 60
- Page 61
- Page 62
- Page 63
- Page 64
- Page 65
- Page 66
- Page 67
- Page 68
- Page 69
- Page 70
- Page 71
- Page 72
- Page 73
- Page 74
- Page 75
- Page 76
- Page 77
- Page 78
- Page 79
- Page 80
- Page 81
- Page 82
- Page 83
- Page 84
- Page 85
- Page 86
- Page 87
- Page 88
- Page 89
- Page 90
- Page 91
- Page 92
- Page 93
- Page 94
- Page 95
- Page 96
- Page 97
- Page 98
- Page 99
- Page 100
- Page 101
- Page 102
- Page 103
- Page 104
- Page 105
- Page 106