That’s awful. I know she was your friend.
I’m so sorry.
SK???????
Yeah, I’m still in shock.
Can’t believe it.
Mari????
Did you see the news?
The guy from the park apparently died too.
Ran out into traffic and got hit by a bus.
SK???????
WHAT!? That’s crazy.
btw, how are you feeling?
Any better?
Mari????
A little. Gonna go to bed early.
Hopefully that helps.
SK???????
Just promise me you’ll tell your aunt
and uncle to take you to a doctor if
you don’t feel better.
Mari????
Yes, mom. I promise.
The news story was muted; and as I continued to text Sara-Kate with one of my new library books open in my lap, I heard Uncle Dan come in. His footsteps were heavy as he headed to his office with a box of papers labeled as evidence.
“Hey there, Mari,” he grunted his greeting before closing his office door. He once again missed dinner, and I was sure he was in no hurry to face Tiffany yet. She had spent the majority of dinner complaining about Dan’s job and how he really didn’t need to work himself so much.
Usually, I wouldn’t bother Dan. I was content for us to remain more casual acquaintances rather than seeking a deeper connection. I never had a dad and didn’t really feel the need for one now, but the pull to follow him was strong. I set my phone and book down, turning the TV off before leaving the room.
I walked up to his dark oak office door, taking a deep breath to steady my nervous breathing. For whatever reason, I wanted to talk to Uncle Dan. I wanted to ask his opinion on Ashe and if he had any thoughts regarding her or the Michelle Nelson case. For whatever reason, I had a strange feeling that maybe the two were connected. Two deaths at Windsor Academy seemed too coincidental. Then, adding on the man who got run over by the bus made it feel like this city was cursed.
I timidly knocked on the door. A moment later, his voice came through the door, muffled.
“Come in!”
I opened the door, closing it gently behind me. Uncle Dan was at his desk, which was overflowing with various papers. Whenhe looked up, he breathed a sigh of relief.
“I thought you were Tiffany,” he chuckled, looking back down at his papers. “How mad is she?”
