Page 84 of David's Love

He also said that Keith would probably ask for a transfer and never walk on campus again.

I believed him.

I like to believe him because what he says is usually right.

Spending a few more moments in silence, I contemplate my new life.

The exhilaration is real, simmering in my blood, but the apprehension sneaks right behind it like a thief, robbing me of my joy.

A kernel of tension sits in the pit of my stomach, the kind that normally hints at big changes.

I don’t know if I’m ready for any of them.

All I know is that I’m willing to take a risk, and in the end, that’s all that matters.

With that thought in mind, I click my seat belt and swerve my car away.

16

ELIZABETH

It takesa while to find the address.

It’s been a good half an hour since I left, and I’m in a different town, trying to find the place without using my phone.

I’m looking for Eleonora Winston’s address.

If her address is still valid. I had no time to double check as I’ve been a scatterbrain lately.

Eventually, I pull my car to a stop in a sleepy neighborhood with very few vehicles parked on the street or in the driveways.

It looks like the place has been asleep for a decade.

It’s not like the houses are shabby or the windows have no seasonal decorations. That's precisely what makes them look like they have been frozen in the past.

More clouds slide across the sky, altering the afternoon light and making everything look grayish.

Some lights come on inside the little quaint houses surrounded by shrubbery and trees that still have a few Halloween decorations clinging to their branches tainted by some snow.

I check the numbers and focus on a tiny house with no lights or decorations.

There are no cars in the front and no signs that anyone lives in that house either.

I turn off the ignition and quietly slide out of my seat.

Out of habit, I check my phone for new notifications.

I don't see any, so I put it back in my pocket and begin walking, my eyes trained on the house.

The echo of my footsteps is the only sound wafting through the air. There are no bits of conversations, voices, barking, laughter, or a radio on the kitchen counter. No hint that someone actually lives in these houses.

Looking down the street, I walk across the road before moving my focus to the entrance of the house.

The address is correct.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a cat on the neighbor’s porch.

It’s a tabby cat with stripes across her cheeks, long whiskers, and a swirled pattern on her body.

---