A rising wind, insistent and tinged with the damp promise of a late July thunderstorm, blew coldly down the quiet streets and brushed its clammy fingers against the limp faces of the parched and shuddering leaves. The sun grew unsure of itself and fled the sky. Inside, people tiptoed through the tepid indoors of their carpeted hallways, stepped over their thresholds into the moving air, and sighed with relief at the promise of rain. For a few short hours, it seemed that the unsettling presence of murder, mystery, and irreversible change that had haunted our streets all summer would finally, finally be washed away. The news blew into town before the second set of handcuffs had clicked into place around the beefy, blue-veined wrists of the suspects, picking up speed as it raced through phone lines and over hedges, banging through front doors, barging into kitchens where it surprised families in the midst of their unhurried Sunday breakfasts. It rushed eagerly down the streets, richocheting off the bare, sun-faded faces of stately white homes and wrapping in a breathless tangle around the trunks of old trees.
What do You think about Amelia Anne Is Dead And Gone?
