What Sarah Said
It was a hot, sticky, August afternoon that I heard the familiar honk of John’s gold Pathfinder in my driveway. “Shit,” I muttered as a buckled my black Mary Jane heels and adjusted my slip. As I approached his car, it was undeniable by the looks on their faces that Sarah and John felt just as lost as I did. I crawled into the backseat, careful to pull down my dress far enough as to not scorch the...