2
Mila
The house wasn’t much to speak of considering what we’d left behind, but it would do for the two of us. At least the rental came fully furnished since we’d left everything back home—including our identities.
I peered at the new Massachusetts driver’s license that had been provided, hating the dark hair and name that wasn’t what I’d been given at birth. Michelle Evans. Who was she? A single mom new to town, a janitor at the small retirement community down the road.
A woman I didn’t recognize.
Tossing the license back onto the table in our small kitchen, I glanced around, any sense of hope or dreams I’d had as a younger woman with her future ahead of her smothered like burning flames from a bucket of cold water.
There was no ignoring the how we’d ended up in New England, far fro
