The horn sounded again before any of us said a word.
One short burst. Two long.
Old distress rhythm. Ours.
Image
I grabbed the photo from Ellie’s hand, shoved it into my pocket, and started running.
The horn sounded again before any of us said a word.
One short burst. Two long.
Old distress rhythm. Ours.
Image
I grabbed the photo from Ellie’s hand, shoved it into my pocket, and started running.
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