The rain beat down in relentless sheets, soaking my hair and the collar of my shirt.

“Miriam!” I called out, but the wind swallowed my voice.

She was gone into the dark.

I pulled the door shut and locked it with trembling fingers.

My mind raced with questions, but the silence of the empty shop offered no answers.

I climbed the stairs back to the apartment, where Lucia was fast asleep.

I sat by her bedside until the first light of dawn broke through the gray clouds.

By eight in the morning, the rain had stopped.

A thick, damp fog hung over the Manhattan streets.

I unlocked the front door of Rossi Books and turned the sign on the glass to ‘Open’.

The smell of old paper and damp wood always calmed me, but today it felt heavy.

Lucia sat at the small wooden table in the children’s corner, coloring with a yellow crayon.

Her dark curls fell over her shoulders, framing her face.

When she looked up, her bright, distinct Valenti eyes met mine.

They were the exact color of the sea before a storm.