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Weekly Contest #311
Three years had passed since I last saw Matthew. I remember the last day we were together quite vividly. It was a sweltering hot afternoon in June, a few weeks before he was supposed to leave for Notre Dame. The faint scent of freshly cut grass filled the air, along with the sound of cicadas buzzing nearby. The trees swayed gently, but the breeze did nothing to cool me. I tried to fan myself with my hands, but beads of sweat dripped down my back anyway. Bethel Baptist was the only Southern Baptist church in the town. Calder County was one ...
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