His Choice Wasn't Me
“You’re mistaking me for someone else.”
She stood abruptly, clutching her bag, and walked away.
Martha tried to follow, but the crowd swallowed the woman in seconds.
She stood there, her heart racing, surrounded by fallen fruits. Her knees weakened as reality crashed over her.
Sarah. It was Sarah.
She was alive.
***********************
That night, James couldn’t focus on the document in front of him. He sat in his study, surrounded by scattered papers and coffee cups. The air was thick, heavy with the weight of obsession.