Grace is practicing her piano, and I’m trying not to cringe as she struggles her way through the piece and sighs audibly every time she hits a wrong note. I swear she’s doing it on purpose as a tactic to let her stop playing.
“You’ve only been practicing for five minutes, Grace. You have twenty-five left.” I say without mercy.
She groans and starts again.
My phone goes off and I check it to find a strange number and a message that reads “Park. Five minutes. It’s urgent.”
“Grace, I’ll be back in a few minutes. Don’t leave that piano bench.” I say getting up. I don’t know why I’m heading to the park without question. There’s just something about it that says I have to.
I head down the road and get to the park exactly five minutes later. Another message from my phone, and I glance
