“I'm never going back to my old school.”
“Why not?” said Pete.
“Because…” Lynn sighed.
She wrapped his arms in a fierce embrace and drenched his face with tears.
“Come on. It wasn’t such a bad old place,” said Pete, but Lynn disagreed.
Then Peter struggled from her grasp—“Please no!”—strode streets on silent feet, slid shadow-less into the night. The school’s closed doors that stopped Lynn’s following let him pass unhindered.
“In memory of Peter Ransom,” said the words on the photograph; should have stayed away.
Lynn watched through the window as her boyfriend vanished again.