The Accident Wasn’t What I Thought
Printed emails.
Old messages.
A police report.
The date of the accident.
The route.
An address that was not his grandparents’ house.
My stomach rolled as I saw a name I hadn’t expected.
Jenna.
Messages between him and my best friend from that day.
“Can’t stay long,” he’d written. “Got to get back before she suspects.”
