❝ –– perhaps it’s true that things can change in a day. and when they do, those few dozen hours, like the salvaged remains of a burned house—the charred clock, the singed photograph, the scorched furniture—must be resurrected from the ruins and examined. and suddenly, they become the bleached bones of a story.
“Hey, I kind of like living in a perpetual downpour. Nothing like frizzy hair to put me in an excellent mood. But…I actually got a job here, figured a change of scenery was in order for my daughter and I.”
“Your daughter, huh? I have a girl, too ——
she’s fifteen. It gets kind of tough juggling the job and the family, huh?” Teddy remarked sympathetically.
