IT’S RAINING AGAIN by the time we’ve reached Sinclair’s apartment and he’s closed the door behind us. Willow’s Creek is notorious among its residents for its unyielding rain during the spring but it seems to me like it’s been raining a lot more than it usually does. I’ve lived here since I was eleven and this is the first time I can remember that it’s rained so much back to back.
Across the street, a grouping of headlights and shops illuminate Sinclair’s living room and the moon overhead is backlighting the group of dark clouds that have obscured it. The moon will be full in two days and I only know this bit of information because Mom took a course of Paganism as a sister class to her studies in mythologies—both Hellenistic and Norse—and the Pagans often associated a lot of meaning to ea
