Chapter 4: The Empty Church
After Angie died, I couldn’t stop wondering whether one different friend, one different afternoon, one different choice might have changed everything.
Two days later, I buried my only child.
At the church, I kept looking toward the doors without meaning to, waiting for Angie to rush in late and laughing, apologizing with that bright, breathless smile of hers.
Her friends didn’t come.
And I hated them for that too.
When the funeral ended, I drove home in silence.
But the moment I turned into my driveway, I saw the front door standing open.
The porch light was on.
The living room lamp glowed softly through the window.
I had turned everything off before leaving.
My body went cold.
I stepped inside and found all four of Angie’s friends standing among the funeral flowers, framed photos, and casseroles I knew I would never touch. Continue Reading ⬇️
