Life happened. And her life? Her life was good, leaving little room for her to complain. She had a roof over her head and a job she liked and . . . she was content. Just occasionally, when she was in a funk, the kind of melancholy mood that had an awful tendency to creep up on her around holidays and birthdays and special occasions, Everleigh would wish for more. As the pages on the calendar seemed to pass by quicker every year, Everleigh’s yearning for that undefined thing grew.
