Nothing about my future requires me to pretend otherwise.

But the storm is no longer the first thing I think of when I hear rain.

These days, sometimes I think of a garden needing water, or the sound of drops on a library window, or my mother standing at a kitchen sink humming while she washed dishes.

Sometimes I think of Margo’s headlights turning around on County Road 9.

On my first night in the dorm, I called Colleen.