Elvira

The dusky amber light of early evening washed over the balcony corridor, but my skin prickled.

I miss Brielle. I haven’t seen her in weeks, and nobody knows if she’s alive or dead. Just then my eye caught a figure.

At first, I thought I was hallucinating.

She stood there at the far end of the entrance, backlit by the sun, hair dancing around her face in the wind, that slender silhouette too familiar to ignore. My breath caught in my ...