Chapter 45

For a moment, I convinced myself I was at home with my Grandma. The smell of soup filled the air, thick with garlic, thyme, and oregano. The rich tomato aroma wrapped around me, evoking a sense of comfort and security. My Grandma's humming drifted from the kitchen into the living room, where I lay on the couch. The lingering heat of the California air warmed my skin, soothing my aching muscles. When I finally mustered the strength to open my eyes, I realized how wrong I was. I wasn't in California, and my Grandma was dead. The peaceful humming was coming from an old woman, her hair white as snow. She stood in the kitchen, stirring something in a large iron pot. The warmth dancing along my skin came from a crackling fire just a few feet in front of me.