e records office felt heavy, thick with

pen in my hand, hovering over the sales agreem

randma, every last cent, was

Thompson' s name, my boyfrie

ore, but he had big dreams,

nd tr

om exc

ry not my own, yet as real as the w

ater, news broke about fracking rights. The land under the Elm Street house was s

er, on his arm. He said she was "like a stepsister."

enda smirked, her hand on his arm, wearing a new,

re I could, a cough settling deep in my chest. The last thing I remembered was the biting w

hand felt im

, tapped her pen impatiently. "Ma'

oked

l waiting area,

to Brenda. She giggled, her eyes flicking to

ow," Brenda was saying, her voice low but carrying in t

you want, Bren. It's gonn

. My inh

unch to my gut, s

he moment. The

dead. I

against my ribs, a

ond c

d in my mind, c