Golden Hour

Chapter 3 Colson

three

Colson

The fucking sun is still out with a vengeance, but at least it doesn’t feel like my skull is cracking open. Progress. The hangover’s gone, but the rest of it—the ache in my shoulder, the weight in my chest—is still annoyingly here.

I make my way into the kitchen and open the one cabinet I put food in yesterday. I brought some essentials from my place in my packing frenzy. Scanning the slim and really random options, I land on something tried and true.

PB something that won’t pry open the parts of me I’ve been duct-taping together. But instead, I’m stuck in a house that feels like a shrine, with its yellow cabinets and someone like Sadie next door.

The hits keep on coming.