The Last House Guest

by Megan Miranda

happening. There was a hand on my back, and I closed my eyes, leaning in to it, becoming someone else. It’s how these things go.

Conner?

Even though I knew better by then. This place, it took people from me. And I had grown complacent in forgetting that.

Hmm

the next in their frames, so they remained as one. Like layers of paint, slowly growing in thickness, until I’d removed the older images for my own safekeeping.

Thats weird

What were the odds that Sadie had chosen those very same words, the ones I had used earlier that summer—the ones I had written myself, folded in half, and left on the surface of her desk for her?

It was acerys note?!?

This perspective, looking out over everything I’d ever known. Nowhere else would’ve had Sadie.

Obsessed much