*Hattie*

Saturday morning, I wake up to what sounds like thunder before the sun has fully risen. I rub my eyes and notice a strange stillness in the room. With a jolt, I gasp at the realization: that's not thunder.

I roll toward the other side of the bed. It's cold. Charlie isn't there.

I sit up slowly, heart pounding, glancing around the room. Maybe she rose early and went downstairs to help Mrs. Monroe. But I know better. I feel it in my chest. That sharp, ...