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Weekly Contest #306
There I was, Interstate 89. Too far from Boston to beat the rain, too close to stop for the night. The escalating tension of my heartbeat as my hands wrapped around the steering wheel a little tighter. I had to get to the city as soon as possible. I knew she would still be there, even after all of this she would still be there. The phone call was as out of the blue as the sudden storm cascading across my windshield on this June afternoon. “You have a tiring personality. I don’t know what else to say, Nate.” I felt the rain of closure’s fin...
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