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"Most people believe home is a place; the roof over your head, where you rest once the sun goes down, or the lines that border this town to the next. But, I don't — I don't think it stops there. Have you ever gotten a sinking feeling after nostalgia? The kind of sinking feels like it's deep in your stomach: a numbness spreads from your feet to your hands, up to your head where it feels like you're swimming, or - or drowning. You see what you had, and you didn't realize you could lose it until one morning, you wake up, and you know that it's gone indefinitely. The kinds of things you miss in those moments of nostalgia are home. And, excuse my language, homesickness is a son of a bitch."
The faces of the crowd stared at Angelica Bell blankly. Bored. Encaptivated. Dejected. Her hands trembled distracted her from the fact that she couldn't read the minds of her peers who sat a measly ten feet ahead of her on the bleachers, were they listening? Or was she just beating a dead horse?
She opened her mouth and closed it again, her eyes flitted over to Barbara's parents, stood to the left of the bleachers. Don't hesitate. "Nearly a year ago, my brother, Pete... Peter Bell, and Barbara Holland went missing. He was home to me, and Barbara was home to her family, and - and her friends. It's like they both just... disappeared — one moment they were there, and the next, they vanished. They told no one, no one knows where they are, and now we're left just wanting answers... I know they're out there somewhere, so please," Angie swallowed thickly, "if you know anything, or know anyone who knows anything, tell someone. Whether it be the police, one of the numbers I hung up on the bulletin board outside of the front office, or even just me or Barbara's parents directly. We just want answers."
"I just want my brother back." There was a moment of silence as she felt tears well up along her waterline, they felt red hot, searing into her retinas as she gripped the podium and ducked her head down, her silky strands of blonde hair were disturbed and fell along the sides of her face. She stared at the waxed wooden floors and sucked in a breath. People snickered from the top left end of the bleachers and Angie almost felt the scorning expressions from Carol, or Nicole, or Tommy, or whoever the hell had enough hatred inside of them to find her misery amusing.
