It would be several hours before the girl’s body was found.
It was late now; so late that it could once again be called early -that surreal, enchanted, twilight hour between the end of a party and the unfurling of a new day. The hour when reality grows dim and hazy at the edges, when nearly anything seems possible.
“Somewhere along the line, I started thinking that if I just got through this bad experience, this bad day, that tomorrow I’d have something better, brighter, newer.
I still believe that. I still believe that there’s something good out there for me. I just have to keep going until my time comes.”