The Luna on a Chain
She set the leather bag in front of me—the very one I’d had the day of the crash.
I opened it eagerly and sifted through the contents until I found what I was looking for.
Now I’d find out whether I’d truly lost my mind.
“All right, I should go,” Maya said. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow.”
“I’ll be waiting,” I replied, already dialing a number.
After a few rings, a man answered.
“Yes?”
“Hello, this is Vera. Do you remember me?”
There was a brief silence—long enough to make me nervous. Then he spoke, his voice warm, almost relieved.