Margaret hadn’t planned her disappearance in a fit of anger. Instead, it was a calculated decision born from the clarity that comes with betrayal. She had spent her entire life building a fortress of love and security around her small family, only to realize that her grandson viewed it as nothing more than a playground.
On the morning of her departure, Margaret left no trace. She packed a single suitcase, leaving her son’s house before dawn, the house silent except for the familiar hum of the air conditioner. She drove her old Buick to the train station, her heart pounding with a mixture of fear and exhilaration. The world outside was just beginning to wake, the sky painted in soft shades of pink and orange.
Margaret’s destination was a small town she had visited once, years ago, on a whim. It was nestled between hills that turned golden in the fall and had a community library she had fallen in love with at first sight. She remembered the quiet streets and the friendly faces she had encountered. It was a place where she had felt, even for a short while, that she belonged.
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