Devin pulled her jacket on while heading out the door. A quick stop at the store later, she arrived at Addison’s house and let herself in; it was never locked. Deep in the utensil drawer, she hid a new wine bottle opener, one of those nice ones with the metal wings that made it so easy to uncork bottles.
Out on the street she saw a parking ticket on the car next to hers. Devin slipped it out from under the windshield wiper and paid it.
Then she drove up past the border into Canada. At the first town, she pulled over and found a post office. There she scrawled the name and address of her neighbor on an envelope and stuffed enough money for two months’ rent in it.
On the drive back, she cranked down the windows and played Architecture In Helsinki at full blast.
A mile away from her house, she parked in the driveway of her friend Ryanne and put a bottle of tequila inside the screen door.
In her car, Devin found a crumpled piece of paper and a blunt pencil. In big letters she wrote:
Listen, sometimes life’s alright and sometimes it sucks. But with friends like you, it’s mostly alright. Sorry to hear about your sister. Just know – now especially – that you’re valued and loved and treasured and I really hope you don’t move away.”
She didn’t sign it, just folded it twice and put it in the mailbox of Taylor across the street.
Whistling, Devin went home. In front of her door she found three green apples in a sack that hadn’t been there when she left. She shined one on her shirt and took a bite. It was crisp.
[Buy In Case We Die.]