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The sirens have stopped Everything feels like it’s going in slow motion--even the hard slices of rain seeonal Three cars have pulled onto the shoulder People are running toward hts into faceless shadows

"Nick!" they’re shouting "Nick! Nick!"

Run

The word coainst my face

So I do

BEFORE

Nick

The summer I was nine was a wet one For weeks it sees slurped and rattled whenever she inhaled, as if the otten inside her

On the first sunny day in what seemed like forever, Parker and I crossed the park to check out Old Stone Creek--normally shallow and flat-botto, tu the whole area to swampland

Soathered to throw e and resurfacing, in the current This one guy, Aidan Jennings, was standing on the footbridge, ju up and dohile the water pu up across his feet

And then, in one instant, both Aidan and the bridge were gone It happened that quickly, and without sound; the rotting wood gave way, and Aidan ept up in a swirl of splintered wood and churning water, and everyone was running after hi

Mees But they’re weaker than we think

And when they break, all our ht of the accident

I didn’tforup and down a little on the front porch, his breath crystallizing in the air, his sweatshirt hood tugged up over his head, casting his face in shadow

"Nick" His voice was hoarse, as if he hadn’t used it in a while "We need to talk"