Liz Adair

The sheets were damp and cold as she climbed into bed, and as she lay shivering, she ached with loneliness. . . . Cassie lay listening to the creaking timbers of the old hotel, and tears slid down her face.

It doesn't matter what answers I find, she thought. Nothing will ever be the same.

It was in that twilight between wakefulness and sleep that she wondered how she could find any answers when she didn't even know the questions.

Cassie