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2. Chapter One

It was one of those days where everything was okay. Nothing went wrong but nothing exciting happened. It was a mildly warm day in April. It was simply okay.

It was a Saturday. My mom finally had a day off of work and we were sitting around watching old movies. At one point she had turned to me and just shook her head.

Around four in the afternoon my mom abruptly stood up and mumbled something about going to the store.

"I love you." She said.

I said the same thing. Those were the last words I ever heard from my mother.

~

"A DWI crash has recently happened" rang a monotonous old voice from the news. "There were two victims, a man of about 30 and a woman of about forty. The woman's information was found. Her name was Ida Daxton. She was a mother of one."

It felt like shards of glass had entered my throat as I cried that night. My dad was 'still at work' and wouldn't be coming home anytime soon.

I went to church on Sunday surrounded by faces of apologetic elders and confused children. They all told me how much they lived my mother and respected her.

They never mention that she was an alcoholic. But that's what happens to people when they die. You never remember the bad things. Those fade away like frost and you only see the Lily that was their life.

It made me sick. I smiled and cried and gave hugs as fast as I could and hurried home.

I went to school the next day. And the next. And the next. They all faded into an aligned row of sameness. Dad came home with one of his 'clients' the other day and I ran up to my room.

But the next day, something changed.

It might have been the way the air smelled or the light or the heat, but it made me smile.

I beamed as I walked down the street. When my dad came home he was alone. We had dinner and reflected on the day. We even laughed for the first time in ages. It hurt.

As we finished cleaning up, three sharp knocks were heard on the door. I turned to my dad puzzled. He just shook his head.

I walk to the living room and up to the front door and opened it.

"Hello?" I said.

There was a man, more like a boy standing outside. Probably about eighteen. He was wearing jeans, a t shirt of about a book I never read and was tall. He had bright blue eyes and brown hair. His big glasses covered most of his face. Everything about him was strange.

The strangest thing of all was the fact that he was soaked from head to toe. On my doorstep. With not a cloud in the sky.

"Hello? I'm here for Adalaide Daxton." He said hurriedly, looking behind me. "Is she here? I need to talk to her immediately."

He tried to maneuver around me but I grabbed his arm.

"You're speaking to her. Can I help you?" I asked calmly. I was screaming in my head.

He looked me straight in the eye with an expression of wonderment.

"You're Adalaide? That's amazing. Much better in real life than in the description. I see it now. You have the green eyes they talk about. And your blond hair. Do you have a scar on your upper left arm? Or that tattoo of an eagle yet? Have you-"

"What the hell do think you're talking about? Do I know you?" I cut him off. His constant jabber was making me uncomfortable. His hands and legs started to shake.

"No. Not at all. I just came- I tried- well you see- there was a big swirly hole and your book-"

"My book?" I questioned him.

"Yes your book." He looked at me like I was the crazy one. "I loved almost everything well except the ending. Which is what I came to talk about."

"What-"

"Adalaide Daxton, you have an amazing book and I've read it ten times. But I have a problem with the ending. So I came to change it." He said proudly and loud.

Then he fainted.

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