My sentence was almost up. I fidgeted through my breakfast, mumbled a good-bye to Chase, then stumbled through my shift at the station, where radar images, surface weather charts, synoptic weather data, and isotach maps were summarized with a glib, “Eighty percent chance of showers, and a hail advisory for later this evening.” I’d decided—based on nothing scientific at all—that noon on Sunday was good enough, and I counted down the hours. Forty-eight hours from now, I’ll call Landon. Forty-six hours from now, I’ll call Landon. Forty-two hours from now, I’ll call Landon. My pulse raced as I drove home at the end of the day. I’d almost reached my day of reckoning, and yet it would get worse before it got better. Going to work each day had been my shelter. How much harder would this weekend be, with Chase apparently believing we were on the mend?
What do You think about Lost Along The Way (2015)?
