You’re here. You’re doing this. One day at a time.
A hot shower helps. I scrub hard—skin, scalp, everything—like I’m trying to wash off years of grief and the faint trace of Shepard’s cologne still clinging to the shirt I wore to sleep.
I change into black jeans, a slouchy charcoal tank tucked into the waistband, and my favorite oversized green flannel. My hair’s still damp from the shower when I twist it into a high ponytail and lace up my worn black Doc Martens.
There. Ready to face the town.
But when I get outside to the car, my phone’s still there—dead, screen blank, tethered to Shepard’s power bank like some half-finished thought. I unclip it, grimacing. The library key is still on my passenger seat, too. The one I was supposed to return to City Hall.
Shit. Sorry, Shepard.
I unlock the car, settle into the driver’s seat, and check the time. 3:48 p.m.
Not enough time to paint, but enough to drive around. Scope out the town. Get a feel for the mural spots and maybe grab something to eat before the sun disappears.
I turn the ignition. The engine coughs once, then kicks to life.
Out my windshield, I catch a glimpse of the lighthouse in the distance, its frame rising pale and slender against the steel-colored sky. Below it, a cluster of boats bob in the water—some docked, some anchored. The beach stretches wide and quiet. Wind-blown dunes, sea grass swaying. Peaceful. Too peaceful.
This town is so damn small. But it’s beautiful.
I can’t help smiling as I put the car in drive and start toward Main.
When I glance down at my screen, I see a new email.
FROM: Mayor Jake Marshall
Subject line: MURAL SITE BREAKDOWN + SUPPLIES
Hi Sadie,
Hope you’re settling in okay. Let me know if you need anything.
Here’s the list of your mural locations:
Outer wall of the Driftwood Cove Fire Station
Side of the community health clinic
South-facing wall of Baxter’s Feed & Seed
East side of the elementary school
