Return To Gray’s Point
Some Loves Wait A Lifetime
By J. H. Irwin
Chapter Three
The Things We Never Said
The rain arrived in earnest sometime after midnight.
Adrian woke to the sound of it moving across the house, tapping the windows in soft irregular bursts while the wind pushed through the branches of the maple tree outside. For a moment he lay still in the unfamiliar dark, staring at the ceiling and listening to the storm pass over Maple Street.
Gray’s Point storms had always sounded different from city weather.
Chicago storms slapped buildings and rattled transit lines and announced themselves with electrical arrogance. Lake storms moved like moods. They built in silence, arrived in force, and then went on as though they owed nobody explanation.
He rolled onto his side and checked the time on his phone.
3:12 a.m.
