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Natalie grabbed her keys. The text from Gia still glowed on the screen.
Then she thought of the thunderstorm. The way Gia, at seven years old, had looked at her and said, “You won’t leave, right? Even when I’m bad?”
Everything.
“I’m on my way,” Natalie said. “But Gia?”
Now, a year later: Is everything ok?
Natalie grabbed her keys. The text from Gia still glowed on the screen.
Then she thought of the thunderstorm. The way Gia, at seven years old, had looked at her and said, “You won’t leave, right? Even when I’m bad?”
Everything.
“I’m on my way,” Natalie said. “But Gia?”
Now, a year later: Is everything ok?