Epilogue
Several weeks later…
I’d like to say I’d taken Mo’s advice to heart but as the days turned into weeks, no epiphany arose.
There was no hatred.
No anger.
No regrets.
No forgiveness.
I even tried to make sense of it all by summoning random images.
The runaway.
Tara.
Vinny.
Fedora.
Bridget.
Even my mother.
And still, nothing came.
As a final resort, I’d contemplated taking a yoga class.
Burning sage.
Hiring an exorcist.
Common sense won out on the latter two—just plain laziness on the first.
Either way, I’d resigned myself into thinking it would be safely tucked away for another, more rainy day.
And then, my phone rang.
Hesitantly, I answered it.
“One season down, Harper Storm. Five to go.”
I retaliated by chucking the phone out the window.
I pulled my jacket
