Mila

Dawn broke cold, locking Snowy Grove under iron gray skies. I opened my eyes and stared out of the bedroom window. The traffic sounds seemed subdued compared to normal.

It’s as if even the weather feels morose about the Carrington family tragedy.

I swung my legs over the end of the bed and slipped my feet into fuzzy slippers. I yawned and stretched as I padded down the hallway to my laughably small kitchen.

Even though I had the day off from ...