“She couldn’t get out. She couldn’t get home. All she could hear was the rasp of her breath, foggy in the stale air, and the howl of the storm, the hiss of black and white as scrambled as the signal of an old TV. Even her fear was muffled, smothered in blankets of white. She thought vaguely that there must have been an accident. That’s why she was stuck here on the bridge in a blizzard. She had a memory of flashing lights and urgent voices, gone now, all gone. Now there were only drifts and the ...abandoned cars of panicked commuters trying to get home. She shivered, alternating between hot and cold, searing blasts from the heater, icy shafts from the windows, her toes freezing, her chest burning up. She couldn’t breathe. She tried to swallow and gagged. Pain swirled, white and thick as the snowflakes. Something moved up ahead, a flicker in the storm, a young woman, a girl, translucent, shifting in and out of the storm, under the bridge lights, her long hair lifting in the wind. She should really wear a hat, Tess thought, just as the girl turned, smiling, and she recognized her, pretty seventeen-year-old Dawn Simpson.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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