Frozen
DELILAH
I kiss Melanie on the forehead for the fortieth time when Carrie kicks me out.
There’s a chill inside the apartment. It’s still early, barely dusk, but the coolness of nightfall has found its way in, seeped into the walls of my closest friend’s oversized abode and settled its way under my skin.
Or maybe the chill is coming from me.
I haven’t been able to shake it. Six days after Melanie’s mini-disappearance, five days after Javi’s reappearance, and I’m still shaking every time I’m alone, still shivering every time a door slams too loud or a phone vibrates.
I’m edgier than a p********e in church and twice as paranoid. And I wish I could stop it.
I try to shake the cold from my fingers, waving goodbye to Melanie and her friends in Carrie’s gigantic playroom, as the buxo
