Famous musician, Cory Hartley, has plans to end his own life. When rekindling an old flame that never died, Cory finds himself at a crossroads, as he copes with the traumatic death of his best friend. Forced to face the past that's haunted him for a...
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The sound of the door opening pulled Alida out of her sleep. She started to drift back into a slumber, but suddenly realized that it had been the front door.
Alida's eyes shot open, jumping out of the bed and racing downstairs. Before reaching the last step that led into the kitchen, Alida saw Zora in her pajamas heading toward her.
Her small 4.5 foot frame walked with dragging feet—long golden hair knotted with green tired eyes barely able to stay open.
"It's just some bum." Zora stated flatly, heading back to bed.
"What the hell are you doing opening the door this late at night," Alida yelled in a whisper. "You know better than to do that." Alida watched the little girl trail up the steps, ignoring her every word.
Alida rolled her eyes with a sigh, hoping to remember to chastise her for this come morning.
She flipped on the porch light, hoping to scare them away. She peeked through the sidelight window, seeing if she recognized the person Zora had insisted was just a "bum."
She hoped it was only Gretchen—that Zora was simply playing a prank. However, Alida knew Zora wasn't the type.
Alida could see cut off sleeves revealing a tattooed arm—a pair of sunglasses pushed back into his hairline.
The man standing on her front porch took a step back, observing the light shining above him. His dark ashy tresses were layered; a strand hanging over his brow through his aviator-style glasses. His hazel eyes were squinting up at the light with a twisted his face.
Alida's mouth fell open; her throat closed as she struggled to breathe, trying to make sense as to why Cory Hartley was standing on her front porch—in the middle of the night.
Alida opened the door, but only by a few inches as she observed the obvious drunken mess before her.
She cleared her throat, pulling his attention away from the light to the six inch crack between the door she was looking at him through.
"What are you doing here?" Alida spoke low and unintentionally timid. There were several possible reasons he was there, but only one Alida was afraid of.
"I was just in the neighborhood," Cory forced a grin, taking his sunglasses off his head. He hung them from the neck of his worn "Pixies" shirt, trailing his eyes to Alida apprehensively.
He ran a hand through his hair, brushing his dingy tresses away from his face. "No, I um... I wanted to talk to you about something. It's... it's really important." Cory said; he could barely look at her—he felt stupid.
