Evelyn had a hard time falling asleep that night. She was in her room, the thick curtains closed to keep out the moonlight, but some light still came in and lit up her bed. She tossed and turned, unable to relax, thinking about everything the boy had said and how he had looked at her.
"My little flame."
The loving term echoed in her head like a bad dream. She put her hands over her ears, but she could not forget. For twenty years, she had hidden her sadness and told herself that love was too painful, but now fate was bringing it all back.
She finally got out of bed because she could not stand being still. She put on a robe over her nightgown and quietly walked to the balcony without shoes on the cold floor. The night air felt cold and sharp on her skin, but she liked it. It reminded her that she was alive and not just dreaming.
