Faye

I’m not sure what to do to pass the time. Despite the heat coming from the fireplace, I’m chilled. Rain pelts the window so furiously it sends a rapid pinging sound throughout the room, mingling with the crackling fire.

It’s rather cozy when I sit in the single wooden chair near the fire, wrapped in my blanket, listening to the rain. Somewhere in my fractured memories, I remember liking the rain. Liking when storms rolled through… wherever I’m from.

Because she would be there to comfort me. The woman with soft hands and a gentle, beautiful voice. Instead of remembering her face, or her scent, I remember an ache...