I smile as I set the bowls on the dining room table. The tune she hums is familiar as I collect the bowls, but by the time I exit the room, she’s switched to something different, like the station in her head changed channels. She catches my eye and I drop my gaze, crossing to the island where she set out several bowls full of different items: diced tomatoes, chopped lettuce, salsa, sour cream. I’ve been watching her all day, so much that I know she noticed it. She’s not so much back as she never left. Saying she’s back from the dead makes it sound like she’s a zombie, but she’s not. I don’t know why it took her return from the dead for me to notice it.įrom my spot against the door jamb between the kitchen and dining room, I shake my head.

But now, when I study her face, I see the similarities others always insisted on: the shape of our chins, the way our eyes squint when we laugh, the arch of our eyebrows, the shape of our mouths. We both have brown eyes, but hers are brighter, more luminous. Though we both have pin-straight hair, hers is chestnut brown where mine is pale blonde. People used to tell me we looked alike, but I never saw it. Or the way she leaves the cupboard with the glasses in it ajar, like she’s thinking about going back for another cup. Or how she almost never pushes the kitchen drawers closed with her hands, instead insisting on bumping them with her hip. Like the way she sweeps her fingers over her brow as if to brush her bangs out of her vision, even though they aren’t long enough to be in her eyes. It’s strange how many little things have already started to slip away. In my old reality, she was gone just a month. I’ve gone so far as to pinch myself in the twenty-four hours since I woke up to this new reality. Every time I look up and see her, I think I’m asleep, hallucinating. Thank you to Yoly at Cormar Covers for the beautiful artwork. Thanks to Janet at Dragonfly Editing for your editing services. I’m so thankful we can be that for each other. I’ve known you longer than I’ve known these characters-and that’s saying something.Īnd for the One who’s not finished with me yet:Īs always, thank you, Rachel Schurig for talking me off the ledge. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.Īnd creeping Brian out by talking in unison.

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Wild magic book 2