Based on a true story
“She just … died,” he says sullenly.
I shove my hands under my thighs and turn my head to look at him, though it’s dark and I can only see his profile.
“I was waiting and waiting, you know?”
He veers right and I feel a thrill of anticipation. It only took the ride there, the entire dinner, and most of the ride home, but we’re getting somewhere now.
“Turns out she’d been gone for years,” he continues.
I grimace sympathetically, but I doubt he can see it.
“Left so much unresolved, just … hanging,” he says, and turns for the first time to meet my eyes. “Forever.”
“I’m sorry,” I reply.
“And that” – he states emphatically, as he pulls into my driveway and throws the car into park – “is why I will never start reading an unfinished series ever again.”
“Oh, yeah, no,” I say, opening the door and hopping out. “Totally makes sense.”
I probably won’t see him again, seeing as I’ve just started writing a series.
Copyright: Lydia Thomas 2015