Fading Starlight
“Ginger Westwood is already gone—she deserves to have her name cleared!”
I drifted toward Autumn and whispered, “Autie, read it. Please.”
She couldn’t hear me, but her hands moved anyway, slowly turning the page.
December 31, 2024.
It was 7 p.m. I saw Franklin at a bar near the hospital.
The entire room turned toward Franklin.
“Wait. I remember that day!” someone said. “Wasn’t that the night of Franklin and Autumn’s engagement party?!”
The next moment, a video popped up on the screen. It was Franklin, and his arms were draped around a few women.