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In secret we met
In silence I grieve
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive.
If I should meet thee
After long years,
How should I greet thee?
With silence and tears.

  • Lord Byron



I am lying still in Thomas Case’s arms. Outside, the sky is gray and mirthless. The wind sings a chilling song as it hurls large drops of rain onto the street below. The rain is heavy and strong, it pounds and claws at our window demanding to be let in.

It’s only two in the afternoon, but given the shady out–of-the-way motel we’re in, I’m certain we’re not the only ones in bed. But we are probably the only fully clothed ones. Well, mostly clothed. We have both unbuttoned our shirts. Or rather we had unbuttoned each others.

Ameana, it’s been raining for six days,” Thomas says in an accusing tone.

He’s right; the weather is my fault. Angels can’t make it rain but once it starts, our misery can keep it going. He knows I’m the Angel who’s responsible because anytime I focus on something other than my ex, the rain stops.

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