Page 5

Chapter Two

Gwen

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The tires squealedon the runway as the plane skidded across the pavement, coming to a long stop. Taxiing over to the gate, I stared at the mountains covered in a thick layer of snow.

The plane was an hour later than expected, due to an icy runway they had to soak in de-icing fluid until it was safe to land.

The captain popped on the speaker, thanking all of the passengers for flying on board. Waiting for the seat-belt light to turn off, I gathered my purse and computer, and held them in my lap.

As soon as the light dimmed, everyone around me began to stand, pulling out their carry-on bags. But I still sat there, my gaze fixed out the small oval window, watching the clouds as they swirled over the mountain top.

“Miss, are you all set? Do you need anything?”

Pulling me out of my daze, I looked up to see a stewardess at my side, her hand resting on the top of my seat.

“No, thank you,” I said, giving her a small smile and getting up. Pulling my bag out of the overhead compartment, I tugged it up my shoulder and walked off the plane.

The terminal was full of people hugging and laughing, their smiles making me even more nauseous. Everyone around me looked happy to be there, excited to be home for the holiday.

And all I could think about was walking to the ticket counter and exchanging my ticket for the next flight back to New York.

Five days. . . You can make five days.

Zipping up my jacket, I made my way outside and found my taxi waiting. Climbing in, I gave the driver directions, slinking down as much as I could into the back seat.

I had this urge to stay hidden, to keep myself as small as possible. It was silly, I knew that, but I refused to let more than my nose and forehead show above the bottom of the window.

Familiar buildings rushed past the window. The library I spent every night in while studying for the bar exam, the coffee shop I spent countless hours in writing papers. The familiarity should have been warm and welcoming, but all I felt was unsettled and nervous all at the same time.

Comfort was a strange thing. Most people went home because of that feeling, because the nostalgia gave way to memories they enjoyed. They could think back as they drove past that coffee shop and laugh or smile because of a single memory they had.

Not me.

That coffee shop, that library, the small hardware store on the corner of Dunkin drive—the liquor store—it all brought back too much for me. I felt pain, not joy or happiness.