All Chapters of The Last Look: Chapter 1 - Chapter 8

It was exactly the price of two sleeper tickets to Daim.I didn't call Houston again.At four in the morning, ticket scalpers were crouched beneath the pillars at the bus station, smoking."Going to Daim? For the holiday?"One of them looked me up and down and held up three fingers. "Three times the price. Cash only. No bargaining."I handed over the cash I had left.He counted it, stuffed it into his pocket, then pulled a crumpled ticket from his pants and handed it to me.I took it and looked down. The date was from the previous month."This ticket's expired.""Buy it or don't. I'm leaving." He turned and disappeared into the rain.I chased after him for a couple of steps, slipped, and slammed my knee against the edge of a stair. Rainwater mixed with mud and ran down my shin into my shoe.Crouching beneath the bus station's awning, I called everyone I could think of.My best friend was abroad. My colleagues didn't have cars. The ride-hailing app showed no available vehicl

I took each item out, unfolded it, smoothed it flat, and placed it in the brazier.The flames licked at the corners of the clothes, curling the fabric and turning it black. The plaid shirt burned the slowest. One of the buttons at the collar snapped in the fire, shot to the ground, rolled twice, and came to a stop.The memorial lamp in front of Grandma Yvette's portrait flickered.I looked at her photograph. It had been taken during the New Year two years earlier. Grandma Yvette had been sitting in the courtyard, shelling nuts, her face creased with a smile.That day, she'd held Houston's hand and said, "Houston, I'm entrusting my granddaughter to you. You have to treat her well."Houston had crouched in front of her, smiling. "Don't worry, Grandma. Danielle has me."I put the SIM card back into my phone and turned it on. I didn't look at Houston's messages again.Instead, I opened my best friend Elina Lynn's chat and sent her a message.[Help me look into something. Where exac

Houston stood on the steps outside the restaurant, still clutching the divorce papers. The wind lifted the first page, making it flap noisily.He drove back to Daim that very night. He didn't stop once during the seven-hour drive through the mountains. By daybreak, the car had come to a crooked stop at the entrance to the village.The funeral tent still stood in the yard. White flowers and sympathy wreaths lined the walkway, their ribbons stirring in the morning breeze. Rain and dew had darkened the ground near the gate.He knelt before Grandma Yvette’s memorial portrait and pressed his forehead against the brick floor, the dull thud breaking the silence.Grace emerged from the inner room. When she saw him, she paused in surprise. Without saying a word, she turned and went back inside.He knelt for the entire morning. When his knees went numb, he shifted his position and kept kneeling.At noon, Danielle arrived. She wore a faded black padded coat. Her peripheral vision caught sig

Another holiday had come around.The sky over Daim was a brilliant blue. A breeze off Lake Silvermere carried a hint of moisture, cool against the skin.Danielle sat on a bench at Willowshore Park, a picture frame resting on her knees.It was the photograph of Grandma shelling nuts. Sunlight fell on the glass, catching in a small patch of glare that landed perfectly on Grandma's smiling face."Grandma, the breeze in Daim feels so nice. You always said you wanted to come here. I kept telling you I'd bring you when I had time."She lowered her head with a small smile and wiped the fingerprints off the frame with her sleeve."I brought the dried bayberries, too. I'll eat the ones you saved for me little by little. There's no rush."Some tourists passed by. They noticed a young woman holding a picture frame and talking to it while facing Lake Silvermere. They glanced at her a little longer, then moved on.Danielle sat there all afternoon, watching the sun slide down from the peak o