It wasn't fear, at least not exactly.

It was a memory-cold and sudden, like a breeze down your spine on a quiet day.

The photo from the envelope still sat in my nightstand drawer.

I had hidden it there days ago, the plain white envelope folded around it like a protective shell, But still it burned in my thoughts.

That cracked staircase, the broken window, the place I used to shrink myself into.

Raymond noticed I wasn't sleeping well, but he didn't push, not until that morning.

We were ...