And there she was. I suddenly couldn’t feel my heart beating.
She was under an umbrella— her pale skin had always been sensitive to the sunlight. Her curly red hair was half tied up in a bun, half laying over her shoulders. Her brows were raised in a nonchalant sort of curiosity as she eyed the odd visitors on her porch. She was watching me.
Seeing as I was crippled, Jack butted past with a winsome grin. “Would any of you fine ladies happen to be Aila Galloway?”
Aila nodded politely. “I am she.”
Her voice sounded just like I remembered. High pitched, but smooth and confident, with just a hint of an English accent. Every word deliberate and considered.
My heart started beating again. Suddenly, I was moving. My arms reached out against my will. I had to touch her. I had to make sure she was real... that she wouldn’t crumble. My palm nearly connected with her face, but she gently pushed my arms down. Her forehead crinkled in concern and bewilderment.
“Hello there...” she greeted, a bit uneasy. “Is there something I can do for you, dear?”
I didn’t know what I had been expecting. I knew she wouldn’t remember me. But for some reason, I still felt a powerful ache split through my chest. My hands fell back to my sides.
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