The Broken Luna Returns
I turned, expecting maybe another round of chaos, but it was Grandma, and beside her was Grandpa Argus and an elderly woman who gave a warm smile my way.
Who is she?
They walked over slowly, wrapped in her usual oversized sweater that had probably seen more presidential terms than I had birthdays. Her eyes were misty.
“You be safe, sweetheart,” Grandma whispered into my ear, her voice shaking a little. “Call me when you get there. Or when you get scared. Or hungry. Or bored. Just—call me.”
I turned around and hugged her tight. “I will, Grandma. Promise.”
She sniffled, then faced Grandpa Argus, her expression suddenly fierce.
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